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ch0llies · 2 days ago

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FOREVER NOW | CHRISTOPHER STURNIOLO. PT.2

oneshot - chris x reader

You and Chris have been tied together by an invisible string ever since you met at 10. As you grew older, Chris became your safe place. He was always there, unknowingly shaping himself into the person you'd eventually fall in love with. By the time you were 18, you had become each other's first everything- first kiss, first love, first promise that neither of you could ever belong to anyone else the way you belonged to each other. And now, standing in the bathroom with ten pregnancy tests lined up on the counter, that promise felt heavier than ever.

story warnings: fluff, smut, pregnancy kink, basically everything that has to due with pregnancy and childbirth, established relationship, etc... if any of these topics upset you... don't read!

word count: 6k

MONTH 2

The sterile scent of the doctor’s office does little to calm your nerves as you sit on the exam table, your fingers gripping Chris’s hand like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the room. The last week had been a blur- between the endless late-night talks, the baby name debates, and Chris spending way too much time researching the best prenatal vitamins- everything still felt surreal.

“Alright, let’s take a look,” the ultrasound tech says with a warm smile, squeezing the cold gel onto your stomach.

Chris tightens his grip on your hand. “You good, baby?” he murmurs.

You nod, exhaling a shaky breath. “Yeah. Just… nervous.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles. “Me too.”

And then, the screen flickers to life.

At first, it’s just static, a mix of shadows and shapes you don’t quite understand. But then- there.

A tiny bean-shaped figure appears, nestled inside of you. The heartbeat echoes through the room, fast and steady, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, tears instantly pricking at your eyes.

Chris lets out a breathy laugh, his eyes glued to the screen, pure awe written all over his face. “That’s our baby?”

The tech smiles. “That’s your baby. And judging by the measurements, you’re about two months along.”

Chris lets out a stunned chuckle, running a hand down his face. “Two months,” he repeats, like he’s trying to wrap his head around it. He turns to you, his expression softening. “We’ve had our baby with us for two months already.”

Tears slip down your cheeks, and Chris leans over, kissing your forehead. His hand stays firmly in yours the whole time, never letting go.

And just like that, the little bean on the screen makes everything real.

You decide that night to invite everyone over and tell them the news. Your apartment is full- packed, really- with family, laughter, and the unmistakable scent of home-cooked food. Your mom, dad, and brother are here, chatting with Chris’s parents and all his brothers. It’s the first time everyone’s gathered together in a while, and they think it’s just a normal family dinner.

But you and Chris have other plans.

Chris squeezes your thigh under the table, shooting you a knowing look. It’s almost time.

“Hey, Mom?” you call out casually, getting up and heading toward the kitchen. “I think something’s burning… can you check the oven?”

Your mom, who’s been deep in conversation with Chris’s mom, Mary Lou, immediately moves toward the oven. “Oh shoot, yeah, of course.” She opens the door, peering inside. “There’s just a… roll?”

Mary Lou tilts her head, coming over. “Let me see this.”

Chris, still seated but now grinning widely, leans forward. “What’s in the oven?”

Your mom and Mary Lou both frown at first, then look at each other as realization dawns.

“A bun…”

Their heads snap toward each other, eyes widening, mouths parting in shock.

Then, utter joy.

Screams, happy shrieks, as they grab each other and start jumping up and down like teenagers. Your mom clutches Mary Lou’s arms, her eyes already welling up.

“Oh my God, oh my God, OH MY GOD-”

Chris laughs, standing up just in time for his mom and yours to practically tackle you in a hug. “Are you serious?!” your mom exclaims, pulling back just enough to look at your face.

You nod, laughing through your tears. “Two months.”

Another round of screams.

The commotion quickly draws in the rest of the family. Chris’s dad steps into the kitchen first, followed by your dad and your brother, then all of Chris’s brothers- Matt, Nick, and Justin, who were mid-conversation and now just staring at the scene unfolding before them.

“What’s going on in here?” your dad asks, looking mildly concerned.

Your mom turns to them, face lit up with pure joy. “THEY’RE HAVING A BABY!”

Silence.

Then, another explosion of excitement.

Chris’s dad claps him on the back, shaking his head with a wide grin. “You little shit.”

Your brother lets out a stunned laugh. “Holy shit, I’m gonna be an uncle?”

Nick lets out an exaggerated gasp. “I’M GONNA BE AN UNCLE TOO!”

“You’re not special, we’re all uncles!” Matt chimes in, and Justin just shakes his head, laughing.

Chris, overwhelmed but beaming, pulls you into his arms, kissing you right there in the middle of the kitchen, his hands cradling your face.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips.

Tears still streaming, you smile against his mouth. “I love you too.”

MONTH 3

By the third month, your body is starting to change, though you’re not fully showing just yet. Your lower stomach has a tiny bump, just enough for Chris to become obsessed.

Every morning, before even kissing you good morning, he lifts your hoodie or pajama top to check your belly. “Lemme see our baby,” he mumbles sleepily, pressing a kiss to your skin. He does this every single morning.

At your 12-week ultrasound, you both hear the baby’s heartbeat loud and clear for the first time. Chris records the whole thing on his phone, his eyes misting over as he grips your hand tightly. “That’s our baby,” he whispers in pure awe.

Month 3 was fun but it came with mood swings. And they hit hard. One moment you’re laughing, the next you’re sobbing because you saw a video of a puppy and now you need one. Chris is patient, rubbing your back while hiding his laughter when you cry over the most random things.

Not to mention the weird cravings too…pickles with peanut butter. Chris gags every time you eat it but stocks up on both anyway.

MONTH 4

Your energy is coming back, and so is your sex drive. It’s like a switch flips, and suddenly, you need Chris all the time.

“You’ve been insane, baby,” he teases one night, hands tracing over your growing belly. “Not complaining, though.”

Chris also starts buying baby stuff constantly. You come home one day to find him unpacking an absurd amount of onesies, soft blankets, and a tiny Bruins beanie.

“We don’t even know the gender yet!” you remind him.

Chris just shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Our kid’s gonna be a Bruins fan either way.”

MONTH 5

One night, you wake up to something- a small fluttering sensation in your belly. It happens again, and your breath catches.

“Chris,” you whisper, shaking him awake. “Chris, the baby just kicked.”

He sits up so fast he nearly falls out of bed. “Wait, what?!” His hands are on your belly immediately, waiting, eyes wide. When he finally feels the tiny kick against his palm, his breath stutters.

“That’s-” He swallows hard, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s our baby.” He spends the next hour whispering to your belly, telling them all about their parents and how much they’re already loved.

This is also the month you start turning the office into a nursery. You decide not to find out the gender until the baby is born and instead choose a yellow theme- bright, neutral, and happy.

You both spend an entire Saturday painting the walls, music playing, the windows open. Chris is in jeans, no shirt, covered in paint, while you’re in overalls, your baby bump finally visible. He insists on taking a picture of you holding a paintbrush to your stomach.

“For the baby album,” he says with a grin.

MONTH 6

Your bump is really showing now, and Chris is in love with it. He touches it constantly- rubbing it absentmindedly when you sit together, spooning you at night with his hands protectively splayed over your stomach, kissing it whenever he gets the chance.

“You’re glowing,” he tells you one day, watching as you fold tiny baby clothes in the nursery. “Like, actually glowing.”

The nesting instinct is kicking in full force. You’re suddenly obsessed with organizing and cleaning, and Chris is doing his best to keep up. One night, you wake up at 2 a.m. convinced the nursery needs rearranging immediately. Chris groans but helps move the crib- only for you to change your mind an hour later.

“Baby,” he mumbles, flopping onto the rug. “Please. Let’s just go back to bed.”

“No.”

MONTH 7

Your back hurts constantly, your feet are swollen, and even sleeping is uncomfortable. Chris gives you back rubs every night, rubbing your feet and making sure you’re drinking enough water.

Sex is still happening, but it’s… different. Your growing belly makes some positions impossible, limiting you mostly to doggy, but Chris doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he’s more patient, more attentive- his hands steadying your hips, his lips pressing soft, lingering kisses along your spine. He’s careful with you, always checking in, always making sure you’re comfortable, but there’s something else in his touch lately- something hungry.

And then, one night, as his fingers trace the curve of your belly, lingering just a little longer than usual, he finally admits, “Baby… I think your belly turns me on.”

You blink at him, taken aback. “What?”

He shrugs, but the way his eyes darken as they sweep over you betrays his casual tone. His hand drags slow and deliberate over your bump, fingers spreading possessively. “I don’t know,” he murmurs, voice lower now. “Just… knowing our baby is inside you. That I put them there.” He shakes his head, smirking as he licks his lips. “It’s kinda hot.”

You roll your eyes, but the way your pulse quickens betrays you. Because honestly? It is hot.

“Yeah?” You challenge, your voice playful but laced with something deeper. You tug your shirt over your head, baring your swollen breasts and belly to him, your skin hypersensitive, your body already aching for him. “Wanna show me just how hot you think it is?”

Chris exhales sharply, like you’ve just knocked the wind out of him. His pupils dilate, his jaw clenches, and for a second, you think he might actually lose his mind.

Then he’s on you, hands already reaching, already touching. His lips find your neck, warm and open-mouthed, his breath hot against your skin. “Get on your hands and knees, mama,” he rasps, voice thick with need.

You obey without question, shifting onto your hands and knees, arching your back just enough to give him the perfect view.

You had thought that since gaining pregnancy weight that Chris would be turned off… or maybe even stop finding you attractive completely. But it was the opposite. He loves it.

He grabs your love handles every chance he gets and rubs your thighs and massages your back, not because you asked, simply because he wants to. Because it turns him on.

Chris groans behind you, his hands immediately finding your hips, fingers digging in just enough to make you feel grounded. He spreads his palms over your skin, dragging them down to your thighs, then back up, like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

You shiver at the heat in his voice, at the way he sounds almost wrecked already.

“Then show me,” you challenge, glancing over your shoulder at him.

His eyes flash dark with something dangerous, something wild, and then he’s moving- leaning over you, pressing his chest to your back as he kisses along your shoulder, his hands never stopping their slow worship of your body.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear. His hands slide under your belly, holding you, supporting you like it’s second nature. Like taking care of you is just as much a turn-on as anything else.

And when he finally pushes into you, slow and deliberate, a deep groan rumbles through his chest. His grip returns and tightens on your hips, and he drops his head forward, his breath hot against your skin.

“Jesus Christ,” he swears, voice strained. “You feel even better like this.”

A gasp escapes your lips as you adjust to the stretch, your fingers clutching the sheets. Chris moves carefully at first, like he’s afraid of hurting you, but it only makes you want more.

“You don’t have to be so gentle,” you pant, pushing back against him, desperate for more. “You’re not gonna hurt the baby.”

Chris lets out a deep, shaky breath, his hands tightening on your hips as he keeps thrusting into you at an achingly slow pace. His self-control is tangible, the restraint in every roll of his hips almost maddening. Then, suddenly, his hands slide from your hips back to your belly, spreading wide, cradling the swell of it with something so tender it makes your chest ache.

“I know,” he murmurs, his voice rough, almost wrecked. “I just- fuck.” He exhales harshly, thumbs stroking the soft skin of your stomach. “I just love you like this.”

Your breath catches, and before you can respond, he moves- his grip tightening, his thrusts deepening, more purposeful now. He’s still careful, still mindful of you, but the hesitation is gone, replaced by something more raw, more desperate.

“Chris,” you moan, your fingers clutching the sheets, your body arching into him.

His hands stay on your belly, holding you there, like he’s grounding himself in the feeling of you- of the life you created together. His pace picks up, each thrust pushing you forward just enough to make your breath hitch. He’s panting above you, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your spine, his voice thick with need.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he groans, his grip flexing as he moves. “Carrying my baby, taking me so well.”

The words send a shockwave through you, heat pooling low in your stomach. You whimper, pushing back against him, needing more. He growls low in his throat, like you’re unraveling him, like he’s barely holding on.

“Yeah?” he breathes, one hand sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your sensitive nipple. “You like that?”

You nod frantically, gasping as he rolls his hips harder, deeper, hitting that spot that makes you cry out.

“Fuck,” Chris groans, his voice strained, his movements more desperate now. “Gonna make you cum just like this, mama. You ready?”

Chris’s thrusts grow more purposeful, deeper, his control slipping as your body clenches around him. His hands remain firm on your belly, holding you close, grounding himself in the feeling of you- the mother of his child, his woman, so perfect beneath him.

You’re burning, every nerve in your body alight as pleasure coils deep in your stomach. The way he’s touching you, how he’s holding your belly like it’s something sacred while still fucking you so thoroughly- it’s overwhelming, too much and not enough all at once.

“Chris- ” you gasp, pushing back against him, desperate for more. “I’m- oh my God- ”

He groans, gripping your hips again, pulling you back onto him harder. “I got you, baby,” he pants, his voice wrecked. “You feel so fucking good- so tight, so perfect. You gonna cum for me?”

You nod frantically, the tension inside you about to snap. His hand slides from your belly down between your legs, fingers finding your swollen clit, rubbing firm, tight circles that send shockwaves through you.

Your moan is almost a sob as the pleasure crashes into you, your body shaking as you cum hard around him. Your walls clench tight, dragging him deeper, and he groans, losing whatever fragile control he had left.

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” he grits out, his rhythm growing erratic. His grip tightens on your belly again, his forehead pressing against your spine. “Gonna fill you up- fuck-”

You’re still trembling from your own orgasm when you feel him go rigid behind you, a deep groan ripping from his throat as he cums inside you, his thrusts slowing but still deep, still pushing every last bit of himself into you.

For a long moment, all you can hear is the sound of your mingled breaths, heavy and uneven. Chris collapses against your back, wrapping his arms around you, his hands still possessive on your stomach.

He lingers inside you for a moment longer before he finally pulls out, groaning softly at the loss of warmth. He presses a lingering kiss between your shoulder blades before sliding off the bed, heading to the bathroom. You hear the water run, and moments later, he’s back with a warm washcloth.

“Let me clean you up, mama,” he murmurs, his voice still thick with exhaustion and satisfaction.

You sigh as he gently wipes between your legs, being careful with every touch. His hands are slow and methodical, taking care of you like he always does. When he’s done, he tosses the washcloth into the laundry bin, then climbs back into bed, pulling you into his arms.

You melt into his embrace, your back pressed against his chest, his hands instinctively finding your belly again. He rubs slow circles over your skin, his lips pressing lazy kisses to the back of your neck.

Just as you’re about to drift off, his voice cuts through the quiet.

“Baby,” he says, his tone laced with something mischievous.

You hum sleepily, too comfortable to open your eyes. “Hmm?”

“We’re gonna have to record a movie or some shit with you pregnant,” he says, his breath warm against your ear. “It turns me on way more than it should.”

Your eyes snap open as you twist to look at him. “What?”

He grins, completely unapologetic. “I’m serious. You obviously can’t be pregnant all the time… unless I get you pregnant again right after the first baby is out.” He smirks, his hand splaying possessively over your belly. “How do you feel about Irish twins?”

You stare at him, half amused, half horrified. “Chris.”

“What?” he chuckles, nuzzling into your neck. “I mean, just think about it…. another baby, back to back? You’d look so fucking good carrying my baby again.”

You swat at his arm. “Let me get through this pregnancy first before you start planning the next one.”

He laughs, squeezing you tighter. “Alright, alright. But just so you know, I’m putting the idea out there.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “You’re insane.”

“And you love me,” he counters, kissing your shoulder.

You sigh dramatically. “Unfortunately.”

Chris just chuckles, pulling you even closer. “Get some sleep, baby. We’ll revisit this conversation later.”

You shake your head but don’t argue, letting yourself drift off in his arms, knowing full well he’s absolutely going to bring it up again.

MONTH 8

Your families throw you the most beautiful baby shower. Chris spends most of the day looking at baby items like he’s in awe that they’re for his child.

He’s also officially in full-on dad mode. He refuses to let you lift anything, scolds you for overexerting yourself, and installs the car seat a month early.

One night, you find him sitting in the nursery, staring at the crib.

“Chris?” you whisper, stepping inside.

He looks up, a soft smile on his face. “I just can’t believe we’re gonna have our baby sleeping in here soon.”

You walk over, taking his hand and resting it on your belly. “Me neither.”

MONTH 9

Everything is ready. The nursery is done, the hospital bag is packed, and Chris is on edge 24/7.

Every time you shift in bed, he bolts upright. “Are we going? Is it happening?”

“No, Chris. I just have to pee.”

He starts leaving work early, checking on you constantly. One day, he comes home with even more baby clothes, a yoga ball, and a brand-new breast pump.

“Chris,” you laugh. “We already have everything!”

“I just… wanna be prepared,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

One night, as he’s helping you into bed, he kneels down, pressing his lips to your belly.

“Hey, baby,” he murmurs, voice full of love. “We’re ready for you whenever you are.”

And just like that, the final stretch begins. Any day now, your baby will be here.

MONTH 9, WEEK 1

Lying in bed, your body aching from the sheer weight of pregnancy, you shift slightly, trying to find some comfortable position. Chris, ever in tune with you, adjusts immediately, tucking himself behind you and rubbing slow, soothing circles on your belly.

“We need to talk names,” you murmur sleepily, your head resting against his chest.

Chris hums, his fingers trailing absentmindedly over your bump. “Yeah, we do. We can’t just keep calling them ‘baby’ forever.”

You smile, but then a thought strikes you. “Okay, hear me out- if it’s a boy, I still wanna name him Owen.”

Chris stills for a moment before tilting his head down to look at you. “Still?”

You nod, suddenly nervous. “Yeah. I just… I love the name, and I thought it’d be a sweet way to honor you.”

Chris is quiet, but then his lips press against the side of your head. “You know what, I love it,” he whispers.

Relief floods you, and you nuzzle closer. “For the middle name… I was thinking maybe after my dad or my brother?”

Chris grins. “Perfect. We’ll decide when we meet him.”

You nod before shifting again. “And if it’s a girl?”

Chris chuckles. “Do you remember what my pick was?”

“Aria?” you question, remembering what he had said months and months ago.

Chris exhales, and you swear you feel his heart pick up. “Yes. Aria,” he repeats, like he’s letting it settle. “Do you like it?”

“I love it, baby. And for the middle name,” you continue, tilting your head to look at him, “I was thinking… Lou.”

Chris’s breath hitches. “After my mom?”

You nod, watching as his face softens into something unbearably tender.

“I love you so much,” he whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Aria Lou… that’s perfect.”

And just like that, your baby- Owen or Aria- finally has a name.

MONTH 9, WEEK 2

The first time you feel contractions, they hit out of nowhere. Your stomach tightens, and a dull ache spreads through your back, making you pause mid-step in the kitchen.

Chris notices instantly. “What? What’s wrong?”

You grip the counter, wincing. “I think… I think I’m having contractions.”

Chris immediately launches into action. “Okay! Okay, let’s go- hospital, now!” He grabs the pre-packed hospital bag, his keys, his phone, his soul practically leaving his body as he rushes to the door.

You exhale through the pain, holding up a hand. “Chris. Chris! It’s fine. They’re just Braxton Hicks contractions.”

Chris blinks, still frozen mid-panic. “The fuck is a Braxton Hicks?”

You sigh, rubbing your belly. “False contractions. My body’s just practicing.”

Chris stares at you like you just betrayed him. “Practicing?! Baby, I was ready to sprint down the hall and flag an ambulance!”

For the rest of the week, every single time you shift uncomfortably, Chris is on guard. If you so much as groan while rolling over in bed, he’s wide awake, scrambling for his phone.

You sigh. “Chris. I just have to pee.”

He squints. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

You’re not sure how he’s gonna survive the real thing.

MONTH 9, WEEK 3

By now, the baby is almost a month overdue and you want nothing more than to push it out. God must’ve heard your prayers because you wake up to an intense pressure in your lower belly, a sharp pain that pulls you out of sleep with a gasp. For a moment, you think it’s just more Braxton Hicks contractions- until you feel it.

A rush of warmth liquid. A pop.

Your eyes go wide as realization slams into you.

“Chris.”

Chris, who had been sleeping like a dead man, groggily lifts his head. “Mmm?”

You slap his chest. “Chris, my water just broke.”

It takes him exactly three seconds to process that before he shoots upright, fully awake.

“OH, SHIT.”

“CHRIS, GET THE FUCKING BAG!”

Chris dives out of bed, scrambling for the hospital bag while simultaneously pulling on his jeans and trying to call everyone at once. “Okay, okay- uh, shit, okay- baby’s on the way, holy fuck!”

“Chris, breathe!” you hiss, gripping the bed as another contraction rolls through. “Just get me to the-”

And then you glance outside.

It’s snowing.

Not just a light dusting- a full-on blizzard.

Chris follows your gaze, his face draining of color. “No. No, no, NO- Fuck. Okay, hold on.”

He rushes to the window. Your car is buried under the snow, the driveway completely covered.

“Oh no….”

“DON’T WORRY! I GOT IT!”

And for the first time in your life, you see Chris move with the efficiency of a goddamn Olympic athlete.

He grabs his coat, shoves his feet into boots, and runs outside with nothing but a shovel and pure desperation.

You’re standing in the doorway, gripping the frame through another contraction, watching him shovel like his life depends on it.

“CAREFUL, CHRIS!”

“I’M BEING CAREFUL, BABY!” He yells as his left boot slips on ice and he almost takes a tooth out on the frozen pavement.

After what feels like forever, he finally clears enough space to get the car out. Panting, sweating, frost forming on his damn eyelashes, he runs back inside, scooping you up like a firefighter.

“Okay- okay, we’re going, baby, let’s go.”

He gets you into the car, throws the bag in the back, and peels out onto the snowy road, one hand on the wheel, the other gripping yours tightly.

Between contractions, you hear him frantically calling his parents, your parents, anyone will who pick up. “Baby’s on the way! We’re coming- SHIT, THESE ROADS ARE ICY- but we’re coming!*”

“Chris, focus on driving!”

“I CAN MULTITASK!”

But through the excitement, the panic, the snowstorm- Chris still finds a second to glance over at you, his free hand tightening around yours.

“We’re about to meet our baby, baby.”

And despite the pain, the stress, the absolute shitshow of this entire night- you smile.

Chris has the gas pedal pressed way too hard, white-knuckling the steering wheel as he simultaneously calls every single family member he can think of.

“Mom! We’re on the way- baby’s coming NOW. I don’t care about the storm, just- just get to the hospital!”

You groan through another contraction, gripping your belly, your nails digging into the seat. “Chris, shut the fuck up and focus on DRIVING!”

He immediately hangs up on his mom and dials someone else. “Dad! Baby’s coming- YES, RIGHT NOW- NO, I DON’T KNOW HOW LONG LABOR TAKES, JUST GET THERE!”

“Chris,” you grind out, trying to breathe through the insane pain in your abdomen. “If you call one more person, I swear to God-”

“Hold on, babe- Nick’s calling.”

“CHRIS!”

“OKAY, OKAY, I’M FOCUSING!”

Chris barely slows the car as he swerves into the hospital entrance. He parks right outside the ER doors, throws it into park, and launches himself out.

“Hang tight, baby, I got you!”

You let out a pained groan as another contraction tears through you, doubling over in your seat. Chris yanks the hospital bag from the back, sprints to your side, and immediately pulls open the passenger door.

“Come on, come on, we gotta go- ” He tries helping you out, but you’re moving too slow for his patience. His head whips around and locks onto the valet guy standing nearby.

“TAKE THE KEYS!” Chris chucks them at him before turning back to you.

“Chris,” you grit out, “I need a second-”

“NOPE, NO TIME, HOLD ON-”

Before you can argue, he sprints inside and grabs a wheelchair.

And when you say grabs a wheelchair, you mean full-speed, NFL linebacker, dodging obstacles, yanks one from the hallway and sprints back.

“Okay, baby, up you go- ” He lifts you carefully, places you into the chair, grabs the bag, and immediately pushes you through the sliding doors, moving like a man possessed.

“WE’RE HAVING A BABY!” he yells to the entire hospital lobby. “WHO CAN HELP DELIVER IT?”

A nurse rushes over, calm and professional. “Sir, please lower your voice-”

You groan, grabbing onto the wheelchair handles, “Shut the FUCK up, Chris!”

The nurse blinks, unimpressed. “Yeah, you heard her. Follow me.”

You’re wheeled into a triage room, and Chris hovers like a nervous wreck as the nurses work quickly around you.

“How far along are you?” a nurse asks, helping you onto the hospital bed.

“Nine months and three weeks.” Chris answers way too fast. “She’s been having contractions for…how long, baby?”

You glare at him through the pain. “CHRIS, I DON’T KNOW, I’M IN AGONY.”

“Okay, okay, right, sorry-”

A doctor comes in, pulling on gloves. “Let’s check how dailated you are.”

Chris freezes. “Wait, check what?”

The nurse gives him a look. “Sir, if you’re gonna faint, step outside.”

“I’M NOT GONNA FAINT,” Chris yells, then immediately looks pale when the doctor starts checking your cervix.

“She’s already seven centimeters,” the doctor announces.

Chris’s eyes widen. “Wait, so that’s close, right? Baby’s coming soon?!”

“Labor can still take time,” the nurse says calmly, way too used to panicked fathers. “Let’s get her into a delivery room.”

Once you’re settled into the delivery room, Chris refuses to sit down. He stands beside you, gripping your hand way too tight, bouncing on his feet like a fighter waiting to enter the ring.

“Okay, baby, just breathe. Remember the breathing exercises? In through your nose, out through your-”

“I swear to fucking GOD, Chris, if you tell me to breathe ONE MORE TIME-”

“Okay, yep, shutting up- ”

The contractions are getting worse. Chris watches helplessly, his eyes flicking between you and the monitor tracking each one.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “How are you this strong?”

“Because I have no choice,” you snap, panting through another contraction. “Because you put a baby inside me, Christopher.”

Chris gulps, squeezing your hand. “You’re doing amazing, baby. I love you so much-”

You barely register the doctor’s next words.

“You’re at nine centimeters- almost time to push.”

Chris blanches. “WHAT? ALREADY?”

“You ready to meet your baby?” the nurse asks, beaming.

Chris nods rapidly. “Oh, hell yeah, let’s go, let’s do this-”

The doctor smirks. “Dad, maybe sit down before you pass out?”

“I’M FINE!”

You glare at him. “Chris, SIT THE FUCK DOWN.”

And for once, Chris actually listens and sits down in the chair next to your bed.

And then It’s time.

Chris stands up again, gripping your hand both excited and terrified, his forehead pressed to yours as the doctor counts down.

“Push, baby, you got this- Oh my God, I can see the head- holy fuck- ”

You’re exhausted, screaming through the pain, every fiber of your being focused on getting your baby into the world.

And then-

A cry.

A loud, beautiful baby’s cry.

Chris chokes on a sob as the doctor lifts your baby up.

“Congratulations! You have a-”

But Chris isn’t even listening. He’s already crying, already pressing kisses to your damp forehead, whispering “I love you, I love you, I love you so much, baby, you did it-”

And then, they place your baby in your arms.

Tiny. Perfect. Yours.

Chris stares at them, absolutely wrecked with emotion, whispering, “Hi, baby,” his fingers brushing over their tiny hands.

“It’s a girl,” the nurse says softly. “6 pounds and 7 ounces. Perfectly healthy.”

Chris lets out a breathless laugh. “I knew it.”

Tears spill from your eyes. “Aria Lou,” you whisper, and Chris breaks, pressing his face into your shoulder.

“She’s perfect,” he chokes out. “You’re perfect.”

Chris holds out his arms the second the nurse gives the okay, gently lifting Aria from your chest. The moment she’s in his arms, his entire face crumbles. His hands tremble slightly as he cradles her tiny body against his chest, his thumb brushing over her impossibly small fingers.

A shaky breath leaves him as he leans down, pressing the softest kiss to her forehead. His voice is barely a whisper, full of so much love it physically aches.

“Hello, my baby girl. My beautiful, beautiful baby girl.”

Tears slip down his cheeks as he stares at her like she’s his whole world. Because she is.

SIX HOURS LATER

The hospital room is quiet now, the energy finally settling after a whirlwind of family visits. Both of your parents, Chris’s parents, his brothers, your brother- everyone had come rushing in, crying, hugging, taking turns holding Aria.

Mary Lou had sobbed the second she heard the name. “You named her after me? Oh, honey…” She hugged you so tightly you thought you’d burst into tears again.

But now, the room is peaceful.

Chris is sitting up in bed beside you, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as you cradle Aria against your chest. The hospital room lights are dim, and for the first time all day, it feels like time has slowed.

“She has your eyes,” you murmur, staring down at her delicate face. “Your beautiful light blue eyes.”

Chris hums, his hand trailing up and down your arm. “Yeah… but she has your lips. And your nose.” He leans down, tilting his head to study her. “And your little chin. And your cheeks.”

You laugh sleepily, pressing a kiss to Aria’s soft hair. “She’s perfect.”

Chris sighs, completely in awe. “Yeah, she really is.”

An hour later and you’ve fallen asleep, exhaustion finally pulling you under, but Chris stays awake. He sits there, just watching you breathe, his heart swelling at the sight of you curled up beside him, completely worn out from giving birth to the most precious thing in the world.

Carefully, he lifts Aria from your arms, cradling her to his chest. She’s so tiny, so fragile, her breaths warm against his skin.

Slowly, he stands, rocking her gently as he walks back and forth across the room. His fingers ghost over her little ones, his lips brushing against the top of her head.

And then, in the softest, most reverent whisper, he murmurs:

“I’m gonna love you forever now.”

And with that, his whole world is complete.

a/n: dad!chris is literally my favorite thing EVER😭😭😭

tags: @mattsobvimyfav @bernardsbendystraws @ilovejohnnieguilbertsblog @mattsturnii @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @watercolorskyy @strangecatpeach @katie1002 @1ovesiick @slut4christopherr @mattgirl4eva @mayalovesturn @chriss-slutt @sturniolohohoho @courta13 @izzylovesmatt @matthewsturnsgf @aaa-mi @bigbeefybitch @hopelesslydevotedsstuff @wastelandzella @yourmother29 @whore4-chrissturniolo @idefinitelyhateu @madisonnxtdoor22 @user1smvtysturniolo @briisturniolo @sturniololuvz @hesvoid34 @butterflytsblog @mommymomm @mattsbunnyxx @blushsturns @i8kth @annalisesturnioloxo @kenziesturniolo54 @ribread03 @sturnl0ve @grace-sturniolo12 @sophsturns @mattsturnfx @lilyloveschris @milo-the-dog @riggysworld @scrumptiouskoalabasement @tenaciousearthquakeperson @sturnlovematt22 @seros-girl @sofsturnz689 @sturniololuvz @eeyoresturnz

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ducktoo · 2 days ago

Text

Getaway

Jo Yuri x M!Reader

Note: here’s to the hamster girl that got the big bag from the squid 🫶

It started with excitement. A group chat buzzing with memes about sunsets over the ocean, lists of must-try cruise activities, and an unhealthy number of debates over how many swimsuits one person actually needs. This was supposed to be the trip—five days of relaxation, laughter, and memories with your closest friends.

Then the excuses started rolling in.

First, it was Jihun. “Sorry, man, work’s piling up. I can’t take the time off.” His message was punctuated with a sad face emoji, as if that would soften the blow.

Next, Minji dropped out, claiming some vague “family emergency.” You tried to sympathize until you saw her Instagram story of her at a café with her dog, captioned Much-needed chill day.

By the time Seungmin admitted he “forgot” about his cousin’s wedding, you were already resigned to your fate. One by one, your friends bailed, leaving you holding the metaphorical bag—and the very literal cruise ticket.

Cancelling wasn’t an option. Non-refundable, non-exchangeable, non-everything, because you’d been too cheap to spring for the insurance. You’d planned for the luxury cabin, imagining yourself waking up to ocean views and feeling like royalty with your close friends. But with everyone else backing out, your budget evaporated faster than the group chat notifications.

Which led to this: you, booking a shared cabin with a stranger. It was either that or throw away the money you didn’t have to lose.

“You’ll be fine,” you told yourself as you stared at the confirmation email. “It’s just five days. How bad could it be?”

Yuri tugged the strap of her duffel bag higher on her shoulder, sighing as she handed over her cruise ticket at the check-in counter. She was supposed to be here with her family—her parents, her older sister—but life had a way of throwing curveballs.

Her sister had come down with the flu two days before the trip. Nothing too serious, but enough that her parents decided to stay home to take care of her. “You should still go,” her mother had insisted. “We already paid for your ticket. Think of it as a break.”

Yuri didn’t argue. A break sounded… necessary.

After Squid Game Season 2 aired, her world had been flipped upside down. Fame was exhilarating, sure, but it was also overwhelming. Endless interviews, promotional events, fans recognizing her on the street. It felt like she was constantly on, with no time to just breathe.

She’d thought about cancelling. Spending five days alone on a cruise ship wasn’t exactly her idea of fun. But her mother’s words lingered: You need a break, Yuri. Go.

So here she was, trying to convince herself that five days of ocean views and buffet dinners could somehow make her feel like herself again.

The only catch? She’d been bumped to a shared cabin because of a last-minute shuffle in bookings. “It’ll be fine,” the cruise rep had told her over the phone. “It’s just a roommate. You’ll hardly notice them.”

Yuri rolled her eyes at the memory. Hardly notice them?

Yeah, right.

If this was anything like her recent luck, her roommate would either be a chatterbox who didn’t know the meaning of personal space or some fan who wouldn’t stop asking about the show.

She stepped into the tiny cabin, already dreading the next five days.

The cruise ship looms large in the harbor, its pristine white exterior gleaming under the midday sun. You pause for a moment, clutching your duffel bag, letting the salty breeze wash over you. The idea of going on this cruise solo still feels surreal, but with all your friends bailing at the last minute, you weren’t about to let the ticket—and your deposit—go to waste.

The fact that you’d been downgraded to a shared cabin? Well, that was a bitter pill you were still swallowing.

Cabin 512A. The number taunts you as you make your way down the narrow, carpeted hallways.

The luggage wheels behind you squeak, the only sound in the otherwise quiet corridor. You grip the keycard tightly, your heart thumping faster than it should. Sharing a cabin with a stranger was bound to be awkward, but you’d convinced yourself it couldn’t be that bad.

The door beeps as you slide the keycard, and you step inside. It’s… snug. Two single beds crammed into a space that feels more like a walk-in closet with delusions of grandeur. One bed is already claimed, judging by the neatly folded hoodie and headphones resting on it.

You hear a faint sound—a soft hum—from the bathroom. Your brows knit together. It’s familiar. Too familiar.

The door creaks open before you can dwell on it further, and your new cabinmate steps out. She’s small, dressed in an oversized sweater and denim shorts, her hair casually tied up. For a moment, her gaze locks with yours, her eyes wide and questioning.

“UH…hi,” she says, her voice soft but steady. “You must be my roommate.”

You nod, but you’re not really listening. Your brain is short-circuiting, trying to process what you’re seeing.

Jo Yuri.

Not just your cabinmate—Jo Yuri, the breakout star from Squid Game Season 2. You’d binge-watched the entire season when it came out a few months ago, captivated by her performance. She played one of the more appealing characters: the underdog who managed to power through the entirety of the season. People online had been calling her the “puppy of the season.”

And now, she’s standing in front of you, looking more ordinary than you ever thought possible. No makeup, no stylists, just a girl with messy hair and an easy smile.

“Uh… yeah,” you finally manage, trying to play it cool. “That’s me. Roommate. Hi.”

She chuckles, her smile widening. “You okay there? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You shake your head quickly, attempting to compose yourself. “No, no. It’s just… you look really familiar.”

Her expression shifts slightly, a flicker of recognition in her eyes. “Ah,” she says, her tone light but guarded. “You’ve seen it?”

You don’t need her to elaborate. “Squid Game?” you ask, careful to keep your voice neutral.

“Yeah.” She shrugs, leaning casually against the wall. “That’d do it.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you scramble to fill it. “You were great in it,” you blurt out, cringing internally at how fanboy-ish you sound. “Like, really great. One of the best parts of the season.”

Her lips quirk into a smile, but there’s a hint of weariness in it. “Thanks. Appreciate that.”

You sense there’s more she’s not saying, but you don’t push. Instead, you gesture to your bed. “Uh, mind if I unpack?”

“Go for it,” she says, stepping aside.

The awkwardness lingers as you start unpacking, but you catch her glancing at you a couple of times, like she’s sizing you up. It’s weird—sharing a room with someone who’s been on your screen, who people have written essays and theories about online.

Finally, she breaks the silence. “So… what made you come on this cruise?”

You hesitate, debating how much to share. “Friends bailed,” you admit with a shrug. “Didn’t want to waste the ticket. What about you?”

She snorts, perching on the edge of her bed. “Needed a break. Too many people. Too much noise.”

“Isn’t that ironic?” you tease, surprising yourself with your boldness. “Considering, you know… you.”

Her laugh is light, genuine. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

The conversation eases after that, flowing like a gentle current. You don’t mention Squid Game again, and she doesn’t bring it up either. Instead, you talk about the ship, the itinerary, and the overly enthusiastic cruise director you’d both spotted during boarding.

But in the back of your mind, you’re still reeling. Jo Yuri, in the flesh. And somehow, you’re supposed to survive five days of sharing a cabin with her without making a complete fool of yourself.

You’re still reeling from the whole “roommate with a stranger” situation when Yuri suggests exploring the ship. It feels like the right thing to do—anything to avoid sitting in the cabin together, surrounded by the thick air of awkward silence.

“Uh… sure,” you say, scratching the back of your neck. “Lead the way?”

Yuri raises an eyebrow at you, her expression somewhere between amused and unimpressed. “You’re really going to make me decide everything, huh?”

“No, no, I just—uh—thought maybe you… had a plan,” you mumble, stumbling over your words.

Her lips twitch into a small smirk. “Relax, I’m not gonna bite.”

You try, you really do, but relaxing is easier said than done when you’re walking shoulder to shoulder with someone like Jo Yuri. She’s effortlessly cool, with her confident stride and casual yet chic outfit that screams “I’m too cool for this, but I’m here anyway.” Meanwhile, you feel like a bundle of frayed nerves, overthinking every step and every word.

The first stop is the promenade deck. It’s lined with shops selling overpriced souvenirs, jewellery, and random knick-knacks you definitely don’t need.

“Look at this,” Yuri says, holding up a sparkly snow globe with a tiny replica of the ship inside. “A whole fifteen dollars for something that’s going to collect dust on a shelf.”

You laugh nervously, unsure if you’re supposed to agree or argue. “Yeah, it’s, uh… it’s definitely not worth it.”

She narrows her eyes at you, clearly catching on to your awkward vibe. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

You blink, feeling your ears heat up. “I talk! I just… don’t want to say anything dumb.”

Yuri tilts her head, studying you for a moment. Then, to your surprise, she bursts out laughing. It’s not mocking—more like she finds your honesty refreshing. “You’re not as scary as you look.”

“I don’t look scary,” you protest, though your voice comes out weaker than you’d like.

“Mm, debatable,” she teases, nudging your arm.

You’re about to respond when the two of you pass by a small café on the deck. The smell of fresh pastries wafts out, and Yuri stops abruptly, sniffing the air like a cartoon character.

“Okay, we’re going in,” she declares.

Before you can protest, she grabs your wrist and pulls you inside. The café is cozy, with warm lighting and a display case full of pastries that look almost too good to eat. Yuri walks up to the counter, her eyes scanning the options with laser focus.

“Two croissants,” she says, turning to you. “And you’re paying.”

“What? Why?” you stammer, fumbling for your wallet.

“Because I’m cute and you’re trying to make a good first impression,” she says, deadpan, though her eyes twinkle with mischief.

You have no comeback for that, so you hand over the money and follow her to a small table by the window.

Yuri takes a bite of her croissant and lets out a satisfied hum. “Okay, I’ll admit it. This is worth the overpriced cruise food.”

You nibble on yours, trying to act casual. “Yeah, it’s, uh… not bad.”

After finishing your snacks, the two of you wander out onto the open deck. The sea stretches endlessly in every direction, the horizon blending seamlessly with the sky. The sound of waves and the salty breeze are oddly calming.

“So,” Yuri says, breaking the silence. “What’s the first thing you wanna do tomorrow?”

You glance at her, surprised she’s asking. “Uh… I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

She groans, throwing her head back dramatically. “You’re impossible.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to be polite!”

“Polite is boring,” she says with a smirk. “But fine. How about karaoke? I saw a lounge near the theatre earlier.”

You immediately feel a pit in your stomach. “Karaoke? Like… singing?”

“No, like interpretive dance,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Yes, singing. Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” you lie, though the thought of embarrassing yourself in front of her is already giving you secondhanded anxiety.

“Good,” she says, her grin widening. “Because I’m definitely dragging you tomorrow.”

You wake up to the sound of waves gently lapping against the ship and faint footsteps outside the cabin. It takes a moment for you to remember where you are—and who you’re sharing the space with.

Rolling over, you see Yuri still fast asleep, her face buried in the pillow and her hair a chaotic mess. It’s oddly endearing, watching her like this, but you quickly snap out of it before she wakes up and catches you staring.

Not wanting to linger in the tiny cabin, you freshen up quietly and head to the deck to catch the sunrise. You don’t expect Yuri to join you, but just as the horizon starts to blush with orange and pink, you hear her voice.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” she asks, leaning on the railing beside you, still in her oversized hoodie. Her hair is slightly more presentable now, but you notice a faint crease on her cheek from the pillow.

“Something like that,” you reply, offering her a small smile.

For a while, the two of you stand there in silence, the morning air crisp and salty. The awkwardness from yesterday lingers faintly, but it feels more like background noise now, drowned out by the tranquillity of the moment.

“I’m starving,” she finally says, breaking the quiet.

You laugh. “I think they’re serving breakfast already. Want to head down?”

She nods, and the two of you make your way to the dining hall. It’s bustling but not chaotic, and you manage to snag a table near the window. Yuri piles her plate with fruit, eggs, and enough toast to feed a small village.

“Do you always eat this much in the morning?” you tease, gesturing to her plate.

She narrows her eyes at you, mock offense dripping from her tone. “I’m stocking up for the day. Don’t judge me.”

You chuckle and take a bite of your food, the atmosphere between you two finally starting to loosen.

After breakfast, the day unfolds naturally. You both decide to explore the ship, starting with the pool deck. The sun is warm, the water glistening, and you’re surprised to find how easy it is to talk to Yuri now.

“I can’t believe how big this place is,” she says, spinning in place to take it all in.

“Yeah, it’s like a floating city,” you agree.

She grins at you. “Still down for the karaoke? I’m kind of amazing at karaoke.”

“Oh really? Amazing, huh?” you reply, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t believe me?” she challenges, her tone playful.

“Surely someone here among us is not a singer, huh.”

The two of you continue wandering, checking out the shops, the gym, and even a small art gallery tucked away on one of the lower decks. Yuri lingers in front of a painting of a ship caught in a storm, her expression thoughtful.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask, curious.

She shrugs but doesn’t look away from the painting. “I was just thinking… it’s crazy how people used to travel like this all the time, not knowing if they’d make it.”

“That’s kind of a downer,” you joke lightly, trying to break the mood.

She laughs softly and nudges your arm. “Sorry, I get weird sometimes. Let’s go find that karaoke bar.”

By the time evening rolls around, you’re both sitting in the lounge, sipping on mocktails with tiny umbrellas in them. Yuri sips hers thoughtfully, the sunset casting a golden glow over her face.

“I’m glad I didn’t cancel this trip,” she admits, almost to herself.

You glance at her, surprised. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

She shrugs, but there’s a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “It’s not so bad having a decent person to share it with.”

For a moment, you’re caught off guard, unsure how to respond. But then you see the way her eyes crinkle slightly at the corners, and you realize she’s being genuine.

“Yeah,” you say softly, feeling the awkward tension between you two finally dissolve. “It’s not so bad.”

As the night stretches on, the ship seems to come alive with laughter and music, and you and Yuri find yourselves in the karaoke bar after all. She picks an upbeat song you don’t know but belts it out like a pro, her confidence infectious.

When she finishes, breathless and laughing, you can’t help but clap louder than anyone else in the room. She bows dramatically, blowing you a playful kiss before hopping off the stage.

“Your turn,” she says, sliding into the seat next to you.

“Oh hell no…” you protest, shaking your head.

“Too bad,” she replies, grabbing your arm and dragging you up to the stage. “We’re doing a duet. Here's a private lesson with a professional.”

And just like that, day two ends with the two of you laughing so hard you can barely breathe, the awkwardness from yesterday now nothing more than a distant memory.

Day three begins with a comfortable silence between you and Yuri as you both sip your morning coffee on the balcony. By now, you’ve grown accustomed to her quirks: the way she furrows her brows when she’s deep in thought, how she adds a ridiculous amount of sugar to her coffee, and how she taps her nails rhythmically on the table when she’s bored.

“You’re staring,” Yuri says without looking up from her phone, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

“Am not,” you reply quickly, turning your gaze to the horizon. The sun is already high, and the shimmering ocean stretches endlessly.

After breakfast, the ship announces its arrival at a nearby island, and Yuri excitedly suggests signing up for the snorkelling excursion. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing,” she says, practically bouncing in place.

You agree, not entirely for the snorkelling but because her enthusiasm is contagious.

The excursion is a dream. The guides take you to a secluded reef with crystal-clear waters teeming with marine life. As you put on your gear and dive in, the world beneath the waves feels magical. Schools of vibrant fish dart around coral formations, and the water is so clear you can see every detail.

At one point, Yuri taps your shoulder underwater and gestures wildly to a sea turtle gliding gracefully past. You laugh—or at least try to, but it comes out as a muffled gurgle. Yuri seems to find this hilarious, and even with her snorkel on, you can tell she’s grinning.

When you resurface, she flicks water at you playfully. “Did you see how close it was?!”

“I did,” you reply, trying to shake the water out of your hair. “But you nearly scared it off with your flailing.”

“I was pointing, not flailing,” she retorts, sticking her tongue out.

The day ends with a quiet dinner back on the ship. You both opt for a small, cozy restaurant instead of the bustling buffet. Over plates of grilled seafood and pasta, Yuri shares more about her life—her dreams, her fears, and the little things that make her who she is.

“You know,” she says, twirling her fork absentmindedly, “I didn’t expect to actually enjoy this trip. I thought it’d be awkward sharing a room with a stranger, but… it’s been nice.”

Her words catch you off guard, but you nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, it has.”

By day four, you and Yuri have become a dynamic duo. It’s no longer just about sharing a cabin—it’s about sharing the entire experience.

The morning starts with a group yoga class on the deck. Yuri insists on trying it, claiming it’ll be “relaxing.” You’re skeptical, especially when you realize how uncoordinated you are compared to her.

“Downward dog,” the instructor calls out.

You glance at Yuri, who’s already in perfect form, her movements graceful and fluid. Meanwhile, you’re struggling not to topple over.

“Need help?” she whispers, barely holding back her laughter.

“I’m f-fine,” you mutter through gritted teeth, your arms trembling. Don't even mention the fact that your back cracks with every slight movement.

Suffice to say, Yuri had a lot of fun holding her laugh when glancing at you.

After yoga, the two of you grab smoothies from the ship’s café and spend the rest of the morning lounging by the pool. Yuri pulls out a book she brought along, while you scroll through your phone. Every so often, she nudges you with her foot, pointing out something funny in her book or making a sarcastic comment about the poolside drama happening around you.

In the afternoon, the ship hosts a trivia competition. Yuri’s eyes light up when she hears about it, and she drags you to the event.

“You’re good at trivia, right?” she asks.

“Uhh…Define ‘good,’” you reply, already regretting your life choices.

The game is chaotic, with questions ranging from history to pop culture. Yuri surprises you with her knowledge of obscure facts—she nails the question about 18th-century composers but completely blanks when asked about the capital of Switzerland.

“It’s Zurich, right?” she whispers to you.

“No, it’s Bern,” you reply, smirking.

She glares at you, whispering back, “If you’re wrong, I’m blaming you.”

Despite a few missteps, you manage to place second. Yuri proudly dons the sailor hat prize and refuses to take it off for the rest of the day.

That evening, you attend the ship’s formal dinner. Yuri, dressed in a sleek black dress, turns heads as she walks into the dining hall. You’re about to compliment her, but she beats you to it.

“You clean up nicely,” she says, eyeing your outfit.

“So do you,” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant, but the warmth in your cheeks betrays you.

The night ends with the two of you sitting on the deck, watching the stars. The silence between you is comfortable, filled with the sound of waves and the occasional laughter of other passengers.

“This trip’s going to feel too short,” Yuri says softly, her gaze fixed on the sky.

You don’t respond immediately, unsure how to put your thoughts into words. Instead, you simply sit there, hoping the moment will stretch just a little longer.

The final day arrives with a bittersweet air. Breakfast feels quieter, and even Yuri’s usual sarcastic remarks are softer, almost hesitant.

“We should make the most of today,” she says, her voice determined but tinged with sadness.

And so, you do.

The two of you spend the morning doing all the things you hadn’t tried yet—arcade games, mini-golf, and even a cheesy photo booth where you both don silly props for the camera.

“Smile!” Yuri says, throwing her arm around your shoulder and holding up a fake moustache.

The resulting photo is ridiculous, but it’s one you know you’ll treasure.

In the afternoon, the ship docks at another island, and you both decide to go for a casual hike along the coast. The trail is quiet, with stunning views of the ocean. At one point, Yuri stops to take a photo, the wind catching her hair just right.

“Send me that one,” you say, pretending to be casual.

“Why? Planning to frame it?” she teases, but her cheeks turn pink.

The final evening arrives too soon. The ship hosts a farewell party, and the two of you join the crowd on the deck, dancing to live music. Yuri’s laughter is infectious as she spins you around, her energy lighting up the night.

And with the ship nears the port, reality sets in. The two of you return to your cabin to pack, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken words.

Finally, as you stand by the railing one last time, Yuri hands you a folded piece of paper.

“In case we don’t run into each other again,” she says, her voice quiet.

You unfold it to find her phone number.

“Yuri—”

“Don’t say anything cheesy,” she interrupts, though her smile is soft.

When the ship finally docks and you part ways, you can’t help but feel like this is only the beginning of something bigger. But for now, you're contented with the short getaway with your lucky cabinmate, already reminiscing about it as you look at her back slowly disappearing to the crowd.

And hopefully, she enjoyed your company as much as she enjoyed yours.

#jo yuri #yuri izone #yuri fluff #izone fluff #squid game #squid game jun hee #junhee #x reader #kpop x reader

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starshinedreamer · 1 day ago

Text

Alrighty y'all, grab a chair and get comfy whilst I yap about my son, my pride and joy, the greatest thing to ever happen to me, my D&D OC: Raymond Foxwood. He is a Wood Elf Druid with the Researcher background and a Neutral-Good alignment (Images at the very end).

I haven't figured out what his voice sounds like yet. I'm thinking he may kind of have an accent? But like it's barely there. I do have an idea for a possible Japanese voice claim: Souta from the movie Suzume.

His best friend? I guess it would be my friend's D&D character. Her name is Topaz and she is a Dragonborne. Not besties, but pretty close.

Ooooooo boy, I got a whole playlist my friend and I have been cooking up for this sad little fella. Here's a couple of them that I think describes him best:

-"The Moss" by Cosmo Sheldrake

-"Rom-Com Gone Wrong" by Matt Maltese

-"When She Loved Me" by Sarah McLachlan

-"Home" by Cavetown

-"Valentine" by Laufey

-"Love Like You" by Rebecca Sugar

He's like, dealing with a heavy breakup until "Valentine" when he meets his current partner :)

4. "I do Adore" by Mindy Gledhill

5. Nope! But I actually thought about it when I was first creating his character just to see how he would act with other dynamics.

6. A scientist. More specifically, an ecologist. He loves nature and learning about all there is to know about life and the world. He also likes finding ways to help others, so maybe even a pharmacologist?

8. Writing, researching, reading, gardening, and making little insect and animal models because he is a NERD™ /lh<3

9. He generally takes good care of his physical health. Although, his flaw is "Most people scream when they see a demon. I stop and take notes on its anatomy," soooo. "For science" he says. "It's for the greater good" he says.

10. Well he's trying his best. But sometimes anxiety just surprises you and all of the sudden you're spiraling and things seem much worse than they are and pfffft whaddya meeeeaaaan I'm sorta self projecting? But he is the kind of person who feels bad about asking for help and then sort of holds it all in.

11. Inspirations were taken Link from The Legend of Zelda series (mainly BOTW) and Howl from Howl's Moving Castle for his design. Everything else was based purely on my own self indulgences for a nerdy elf character (and the songs my friend keeps sending my for him).

12. Same response as question 2 :)

13. No not really, but he is fighting against an organization that keeps threatening and trying to burn down the library he works/lives in with the librarian: Amanita (Ama, Anita, or Nita for short). Amanita is the person who raised and took care of Raymond after his family died in a fire. A fire caused by the same organization who's trying to harm them now. This is his main reason for joining a campaign; to get stronger and protect his loved ones.

14. This one flippin poison dragon we fought. Or maybe that's just me because I really didn't want to let them leave alive. I don't think Raymond necessarily hates anyone.

15. That all honestly depends on how the rest this campaign will play out. My friend has told me that they all did die a couple times, and we almost died to the STINKIN DRAGON but that's not important right now. But L O R E wise, he'd probably still do his researcher stuff until he's really old. Then he'll write books and share his stories :)

16. If they were alive, then I could see him having a great relationship with his parents since they were also big nerds like him. His relationship with Amanita is also great, and he really wants to protect her since she has done so much for him.

17. YESSSSSS! He loves sharing his knowledge with others and would do such a great job teaching kids. Ohhhh this is such a good one, yes he would feel bad if he had to leave them.

18. He/Him :>

19. Biromantic Asexual. His love language in giving is Acts of Service, and Quality Time for both giving and receiving.

20. A longbow and rocks. He has a cantrip spell called "Magic Stone" which lets me make a ranged attack by throwing small pebbles or stones. I like to call this spell the "RAYMOND, STONE 'EM" spell because its funnnnyyyy.

21. hmmmmmmmmmm Actually, I'm not sure! I guess maybe "Nothing You Can Take From Me" from The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes.

22. Will generally go for the non-violent option (more of a lover), but if initiatives are rolling, he'll fight.

23. Extremely. He'll show up with a new tire to fix the flat one, and an extra one for any future situations.

24. Undecided

25. Not singing out loud, but he would definitely hum to himself! :)

26. Irises, forget-me-nots, and bluebells

27. Symbolism wise, a deer. 'Just because' wise, a rabbit, a fox, and a kitty cat :3

28. The Nerds™ (found at the end of this post:) ).

29. Cozy stuff, lo-fi, books, plants, leather notebooks, and an overall sort of cottage core mixed with academia aesthetic. (Mood Board made in Canva :>)

30. Accepts this as their new life(yippee!). They have now been adopted. Will try to find a way to bring up their interests in conversations.

Fuck it, OC brain rot won. Get ready for the Secret Ask List

1) Does your OC have a voice claim, if so who?

2) Who's your OCs best friend? How did they become best friends?

3) What song describes your OC?

4) What song describes your OC and their partner/love interest?

5) Do you ship your OC with a Canon character? If so who?

6) If your OC is in a fantasy setting, what profession would they be in the modern day?

7) Vice-Versa! If your OC is in the modern day, what fantasy class would they be? Would they be a different race?

8) What hobbies does your OC have? What do they do to unwind?

9) How does your OC handle their physical health? Do they take care of themselves?

10) How does your OC handle their mental health? Do they take care of themselves?

11) What was your inspiration for your OC?

12) Does your OC interact with other people's OC? If so, who's their best OC friend?

13) Does your OC have a rival? How did it start?

14) Who's a character your OC cannot stand! It's on sight when they see them!

15) Will your OC ever retire? Do you see them making it?

16) How's their relationship with their parents? Are they alive?

17) If your OC has kids, are they a good parent? Do they ever feel guilty if they have to leave them?

18) What are their pronouns? What would they like to be called?

19) What's their sexuality? What's their love language both giving and receiving?

20) If they fight, what's their weapon of choice?

21) What song best describes their relationship with their enemy?

22) Fight or Flight? Are they a lover or a fighter?

23) Is your OC reliable? Can I call them up at two in the morning if I have a flat tire?

24) Can they play any instruments? If so, what do they play?

25) Are they the kind of person who can't resist a good song? Can I catch your OC singing to themselves while they do the dishes?

26) What flower do you associate your OC with?

27) What's their spirit tamagotchi? Or an animal you associate them with?

28) What clique would they be in? (Draw them in the clothes of said group!)

29) Imagine a mood board for your OC! What's on it? (Make it if you want!)

30) My OC and your OC are friends. This isn't a question. I'm not asking. (How do they respond?)

#MY SON #MY BOY #OH HOW I LOVE HIM #HE MEANS EVERYTHING TO ME #YOU HAVE NO IDEA #*vigorously shaking op* THANK YOU FOR THIS #I don't have a favorite child #but if I did #it might be Raymond #yapping #talk tag #my ocs #original character #reblog #starshinedreamerpost

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pininghermit · 22 hours ago

Text

Duchess' Consort

Request: Loving your Tropovenia stories ❤️ I got, 'Against Parents'. Would you please write something about Adrian and modern reader with that prompt? 🥺

AN: Hello anon, I am glad you're enjoying my silly little event! I loved writing this and would have loved to add more bg but this event is for short stories so I tried my best. I hope you like it :)

Genre: drama & royalty au ish??

Pairing(s): Alucard x female Reader

Summary: “You will have to be my consort. You will not be given the title of duke. I will be the duchess. Our children will bear my family name. Yours will be forgotten. They will never quite treat you well. Your heritage will be scorned. Your lands will be absorbed by the duchy.”

“He’s a vampire!” your father roars, his face flushing red. It’s a familiar sight, one that mirrors your own anger. Apparently, temper ran strong in the family.

“And he’s a dhampir!” you snap back, marching toward him with equal fury.

The latest argument about your relationship had now passed the two-hour mark. You were both too stubborn to yield, two sides of the same damn coin. Exhaustion tugged at your shoulders, but neither of you would back down. Not yet.

With a huff of defeat, your father finally lowers himself into his chair, rubbing his temples. “You can’t just marry the son of Dracula,” he says, his voice weary but still carrying an edge of authority. “He’s no match for you.”

“We’re in love!” You slam a glass of water back, trying to swallow both the drink and your frustration. “And it’s not like I’m abandoning my duties. I’m still here. I’m still doing everything I’m supposed to. Isn’t that enough?”

Your father shakes his head slowly. “And what?” he retorts, his tone bitter. “Sully our bloodline with a half-vampire? You’d ruin everything. Do not make me regret not seeking another heir when I had the chance. Perhaps I should have remarried, like everyone insisted...”

The words hit you like a slap, sharp and stinging. They lodge deep in your gut, twisting until your vision blurs with tears you refuse to let fall. You grit your teeth, clenching the glass in your hand so tightly you fear it might shatter.

“Worry not, Father,” you bite out through clenched teeth, your voice trembling with controlled rage. “I’ll be sure to have plenty of children with Adrian. Enough that I never have to suffer the same regrets you do!”

The room falls silent, your words hanging heavy in the air.

Your father glares up at you, his eyes hard but not without pain. He didn’t mean it, you know he didn’t. He loves you. He’s just afraid, trapped by his grief and his fears. You are all he has left of your mother, and her betrayal has carved a gaping void between the two of you. Making a weak man out of your father. One afraid of any and all gentleness.

“I will not give up on him,” you say quietly but firmly. “The duchy can deal with it. And if you can’t, Father…”

You take a deep breath, standing tall despite the tremor in your voice.

“Then I’m sure Uncle will be more than happy to step up as your heir.”

Your father’s eyes widen slightly at the mention of his brother, and you see the flash of panic before he quickly masks it with a glare. He doesn’t want to lose you, but he’s too proud to admit it. The two of you stare each other down, both unwilling to break first.

The silence between you is deafening.

Finally, your father sighs, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of years has finally caught up to him. "You’re just like your mother," he mutters under his breath.

“Thank you,” you reply curtly, turning on your heel. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You turn to leave the room before he can see the tears threatening to fall.

Once, being compared to your mother had cut deep. A wound to your pride, an insult whispered in the shadows of your childhood. The woman who abandoned her title, her duty, for the fleeting fantasy of love. The scandal had clung to you like a curse. A constant reminder of your supposed weakness.

But not anymore.

“There are conditions.”

Your father’s voice cuts through your thoughts, halting you mid-step. His tone is cold, measured, calculated like a final move in a losing game.

“For him to be with you, there are rules he must obey.”

You turn back to face him, your heart tightening. His gaze is hard, filled with the last fragments of control he refuses to relinquish. This is his last attempt to bind you to his authority, to play his final pawn.

And yet, you stand straighter. You are not the child he once manipulated with fear and duty. Whatever terms he lays out, you will not falter.

“I’m listening,” you say evenly, crossing your arms as you meet his stare. You will not cower. Not for him, not for anyone.

“You will have to be my consort. You will not be given the title of duke. I will be the duchess. Our children will bear my family name. Yours will be forgotten. They will never quite treat you well. Your heritage will be scorned. Your lands will be absorbed by the duchy.”

Your voice remains steady, though each word feels like a blade against your heart. You stand with your back to him, your eyes fixed on the blooming garden outside the window.

“It is a terrible fate,” you continue quietly. “And I have nothing to give you. But I promise, should you take this foolish gamble, I will always be on your side. We will be equals beyond titles. Our children will grow up listening to your stories, to the tales of your people. Your lands will be cared for and passed on to our second-born, who shall inherit them.”

You pause, your thoughts momentarily drifting to a dream you dare not linger on too long. It’s easy, too easy, to imagine this future with Adrian. Despite your father’s endless demands, the vision takes root deep within you.

You can see it clearly: traveling to Castle Dracula with your children. Spending Yule together in the estates of your duchy. The dream feels achingly familiar, a warmth you are afraid to grasp.

Still, you steel your resolve, pushing the dream aside as you turn to face him.

“I cannot abandon my duties,” you say, the words final yet heavy with sorrow. “But you can leave. This life... it doesn’t have to be a fate you endure, Adrian.”

The silence that follows is unbearable. It stretches out like a chasm, each second a reminder of how deeply you’ve laid bare your vulnerability. You resist the urge to take the words back, to deny him the choice, to ease his decision with false comforts.

But no. A marriage built on lies and half-truths could not survive a harsh winter, let alone the storms your future would bring. He deserves the truth, as bitter as it is. You were prepared to lose him.

At least that’s what you told yourself.

You had rehearsed this moment countless times, steeling your heart for the inevitable. You imagined his hesitation, the disappointment clouding his eyes, and perhaps even a polite, resigned farewell. You had told yourself that you would understand. You had promised yourself you would let him go if that was his choice.

But now, as the silence stretches and your heart pounds louder than reason, you realize you were lying to yourself. You weren’t prepared. You never could be. The very thought of Adrian turning away feels like a blade pressing deep into your ribs, and you hold your breath, bracing for the worst.

Then he speaks, his voice so soft you almost miss it.

“My mother’s maiden name,” he says, his gaze fixed on the steaming cup of tea in his hands. He does not look at you, as though he needs the space to steady himself. “I want one of our children to carry it as their middle name.”

You blink, stunned into silence. Before you can respond, he continues.

“I do not care for titles,” he says, his voice firmer now, each word deliberate. “All I ask is that you do not take other partners. And that you allow me time... time to learn the ways of the household. I would hate to be anything less than worthy of you.”

He sets the teacup down with a quiet clink and steps toward you. His presence is steady as he takes your hands gently in his.

At last, Adrian lifts his gaze, and you see the depth of his conviction shining in his eyes. “I have no doubt that you will not let me be wronged,” he says softly. “My fate with yours will be one of happiness. And I would be the most foolish dhampir to ever walk this earth if I gave that up for anything else.”

A sharp breath escapes you, half-relief, half disbelief. His words fill the hollow ache that had settled in your chest, and for a moment, the dream you’d been holding at bay no longer feels so distant.

“Adrian...” you whisper, your voice cracking slightly.

“I have made my choice,” he reassures you, his thumb brushing tenderly over your knuckles. “And I will make it every day, for as long as you’ll have me.”

Tears blur your vision, but this time, you don’t try to hide them. Instead, you squeeze his hands tightly and offer him a smile that holds all the love and gratitude you cannot yet put into words.

One thing you know for certain: with Adrian by your side, you’ll be better parents than either of you ever had. With him, the weight of your duties will feel lighter. Together, you will make something beautiful out of all the broken pieces you were given.

“You are a miraculous idiot,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you throw your arms around him. You cling to him tightly, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

Adrian lets out a warm chuckle, his chest vibrating gently against yours. “Marry me, maybe?” he teases softly, his arms pulling you even closer, as if he never intends to let go.

You laugh through your tears, swatting at his shoulder. “I suppose that can be arranged.”

#castlevania #alucard x reader #alucard #adrian tepes x reader #tropevania event #royalty au #against the parents au #fluff #romance #ughh they're cute #Consort Alucard is a dream I refuse to let go of

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almostwisegalaxy · 3 days ago

Text

The shadow and light Game

Enemies to lover

Servant x blind fem!reader

reader has a shy character in this story

Music to listen to for the atmosphere: People help the people_Birdy

..................................................................................

The morning mist clung to the stone walls of the annex, isolated and cold, far from the grandeur of the Delarive estate. The place had been designed to keep both rumors and their target at bay: Y/N Delarive, the cursed youngest daughter. They said she carried a curse, that she had sold her soul to enrich her family. Yet, for those who had dared to get close, there was neither magic nor malediction. Only a blind young woman, tormented and locked away in a gilded cage.

Y/N sat in her favorite chair, facing a window whose light she could only guess. The slightest noise irritated her; the arrival of a new servant had already sent her into a rage. It was always the same—her parents sent spies to watch her or break her further. But this one, she would not allow to stay.

The door opened. Slowly, without the hurried steps of a fearful servant. The approaching footsteps were heavy yet controlled, as if the person wanted to be noticed. Y/N tightened her grip on the familiar weight of a wooden clock in her frail but determined hands.

“I want no one here!” she screamed before throwing the object with all her strength.

The impact echoed. The man had taken the hit directly to his face. Y/N heard a muffled groan, followed by a heavy silence. No cries, no stumbling retreat. Just that silence—then a deep, composed voice, tinged with a hint of surprise.

“Impressive aim, for someone who can’t see.”

Y/N froze. She had expected apologies, pleas, or a hasty retreat. Not a response so calm, nor a trace of amusement in his tone.

Cassius straightened, pressing a hand to his forehead, where a small cut was already bleeding. He had heard of the youngest Delarive’s tantrums, her fits of rage, her explosive outbursts. None of it had prepared him for this encounter. Behind the mask of suspicion and fury, he sensed something else. Not the madness people accused her of—but a deep, ingrained fear. Almost tangible.

He stepped forward, deliberately closing the distance between them. “I am your new servant,” he declared. Dropping the suitcase he carried at his feet, he added, “And I’m not leaving.”

Y/N clenched her fists. “They all leave.”

“Maybe,” he replied, crossing his arms, “but not today.”

She heard a faint sound—the rustling of a handkerchief as he pressed it to his wound. He wasn’t trying to explain himself, nor impose his presence. And for a reason she couldn’t quite grasp, that unsettled her.

Cassius said nothing, but he observed. The frailness of her wrists, the tension in her shoulders—like a wounded animal, ready to bite to survive. A quiet rage stirred within him. Not against her. But against those who had reduced her to this state. Yet, he kept his mask of indifference. He wasn’t here to save her. He had a vengeance to fulfill.

Y/N was already retreating into silence. “Fine, stay,” she finally said, her voice trembling slightly. “But don’t think I’ll make it easy for you.”

Cassius allowed a fleeting smile, though she couldn’t see it. “It wouldn’t be interesting otherwise.”

He turned to unpack his belongings. But at the edge of his mind, a persistent thought lingered: this family, the ones who had stolen everything he once loved, deserved to suffer. And the key to his revenge was here, in this cold, forgotten annex.

Yet, as he glanced at Y/N from the corner of his eye, he felt something he couldn’t quite name. A curiosity. Perhaps even a respect he hadn’t anticipated. She was far stronger than the rumors suggested.

But he wasn’t here to be distracted.

Not yet

---

Days had passed in a strange monotony. Y/N remained in the shadows of her room, a place she knew as well as her own skin. It was there that she felt protected, even though every movement was a battle she waged against herself. She had never been so reluctant to live, to eat, to wash. The memories of childhood abuse were deeply ingrained, like invisible chains. Anything that came from another human being was suspect. Everything, even food.

Cassius, on the other hand, had understood the situation more quickly than he would have liked. He knew that Y/N refused to eat, that she even refused to wash, that she was trapped in this cycle of suffering out of fear and distrust. He understood that her resistance did not come from a mere desire to be difficult. It was deeper than that. She had been scarred by her past, by a life of physical and emotional violence. And he was here, a new presence in her closed-off world, an intruder she could not accept.

Every morning, when he entered the room, he found her trying to escape reality. The sheets were tangled around her, and she remained curled up, eyes closed, as if she could hide from the entire world. He had seen the same scene play out day after day. She did not eat, barely drank, and recoiled from any form of contact, even from the most basic care.

One morning, after placing the tray of food beside her bed, he sat near her, waiting silently. The tension between them was palpable. Y/N did not react. She knew he was waiting for her to take the food, but her refusal was absolute. He had seen her in moments of rage when she threw the food against the walls or at him, hoping he would leave, that he would give up. But he had no intention of leaving. Not this time.

At last, he stood, walked to the door, and returned with a basin of warm water. “Y/N,” he said in a calm voice, “it’s time.”

She turned sharply toward him, her hands trembling, panic flashing in her voice. “No! I don’t want you to touch me. I don’t want your help.”

But this time, Cassius had not come to negotiate. He leaned forward slowly, grasping the edge of the blanket and pulling it gently, as if he were nothing more than a passing breeze. “You don’t have a choice. You will wash, and you will eat.”

She bolted upright, eyes wide, pushing herself up on her elbows with surprising speed. “Don’t touch me!” she screamed, nearly out of control, the terror evident in her voice. She grabbed a pillow and threw it at him, but he dodged it effortlessly.

She tried to get up and flee, but he gently forced her to stay in bed, his authority calm yet unyielding. “Calm down,” he said, holding her firmly but without violence. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She struggled against him, screaming, but he did not let go. His hands firmly grasped her wrists, never tightening enough to cause pain. Tears welled in her eyes, but she could not break free from his hold. Y/N was weaker than she thought. She didn’t realize that everything she feared from him, everything she imagined in her mind, was nothing more than ghosts. He wasn’t here to hurt her—not in the way she feared. But she didn’t understand that. Not yet.

“I’m here to help you,” he murmured, his voice almost gentle as he kept his hold on her. “Not to harm you.”

She tensed, her breathing ragged, her heart pounding wildly. She trembled, but it was more from fear than from cold. And in that silent struggle, Cassius felt her resistance begin to crack. It wasn’t just pride or distrust. It was pure fear—the fear of having lost control over everything. The fear of being vulnerable again.

She tried one last time to push him away, but her strength failed her. In the end, she collapsed against him, exhausted, her gaze empty as she stared ahead. Cassius did not release his hold immediately. Instead, he supported her gently, one hand firmly placed on her shoulder, as if to remind her that he was there. But he did not force her. He waited. He waited for her to realize that he wasn’t here to hurt her. Not this time.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me, Y/N,” he said, almost a whisper. “You won’t be alone in this.”

She rolled onto her side, allowing the warmth of the water he poured gently over her face to wash over her. Y/N closed her eyes, silent tears slipping down her cheeks. She hadn’t wanted to surrender. She hadn’t wanted to accept his presence. But in that quiet surrender, there was a fragility he couldn’t ignore.

Finally, she let out a deep sigh, her resistance breaking, and allowed herself to be taken by what he offered—a little care, a little warmth, and perhaps, just a little trust.

---

The next day, Cassius entered Y/N’s room as usual, a tray of food in his hands. But this time, he immediately noticed something different. She wasn’t curled up under her blankets as she usually was. Instead, she was sitting on the edge of her bed, her bare feet barely touching the floor. Her face was turned toward the faint light from the window, lost in thought.

She didn’t say a word when he placed the tray near her. Yet he noticed that her hands trembled slightly, as if she was gathering all her courage to resist retreating into herself.

“I brought you something to eat, my lady,” he said softly, kneeling beside the tray.

She pressed her lips together, hesitating for a moment before replying. “You’re wasting your time. I won’t make this easy for you.”

He smiled slightly, but there was no arrogance in his expression. “I don’t need you to make it easy. I am patient.”

She let out an annoyed sigh, but there was something softer in her tone—weariness mixed with a hint of resignation. “Why do you persist? I don’t want your help. I don’t want you here.”

Cassius took a spoonful of the steaming soup and held it out to her with calm determination. “You can say whatever you want, my lady. But there’s a difference between what you say and what you need.”

Y/N turned her head toward him, her brows furrowed. She couldn’t see his expression, but she could hear the firmness in his voice. It unsettled her, as if he could see through her words, through her defenses.

“I don’t want you to touch me,” she said, her voice tinged with the slightest trace of fear.

Cassius tilted his head slightly. “And I won’t. You can eat on your own. But if you don’t… then I will do it for you.”

She felt her chest tighten. He wasn’t joking. By now, she knew him well enough to understand that he always kept his promises. And though it frustrated her, a small part of her—just the smallest part—felt strangely relieved by his presence.

After a long silence, she finally reached out and took the spoon. “Fine,” she murmured, a mix of defiance and surrender in her voice. “But it’s not because I trust you.”

Cassius nodded, a flicker of satisfaction in his gaze. “I never said you had to trust me. That will come with time.”

She took a spoonful of soup, then another, in silence. He didn’t say anything, simply watching from a distance, ready to step in if she stopped. But she continued, even though every bite seemed like an immense effort.

When she finally finished, she placed the spoon down with a sigh. “Now, will you finally leave and let me be?”

Cassius stood, retrieving the tray with ease. Before stepping out of the room, he glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll be back in an hour to take you to the bath. I suggest you don’t fight me this time, my lady.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but he was already gone, the door closing behind him.

She clenched her fists, her nails pressing lightly into her palms. He drove her mad. And yet, a strange warmth—one she didn’t understand—began to settle within her.

For the first time, she wondered if she was ready to lower her walls just a little, just to see what he would do.

---

Cassius scrutinized his own reflection in the cracked mirror of the small room he had been assigned. His features were calm, almost neutral, but deep within his eyes, shards of hatred lay buried—an old hatred, hardened by time. He had taken this position for one clear reason: to destroy the Delarives. To take back everything they had stolen from his family.

He remembered the day when everything had crumbled for the Changs. His father, a respected noble, had been dragged through the mud by a wave of accusations orchestrated by the Delarives. The land, the titles, the fortune—everything had been taken from them. His mother had succumbed to illness soon after, broken by humiliation and poverty. Cassius, still a young man at the time, had wandered in the shadows for years, nurturing his vengeance.

When he learned that Y/N Delarive lived alone, isolated in the annex, he knew his chance had finally come. She, the scorned youngest daughter, the one even her own family seemed to want to erase, was his way in. Becoming her servant was a humiliation he was willing to endure for his ultimate goal: their ruin.

Why Y/N?

Because she was their weakness.

Cassius knew that the Delarives’ reputation rested on a carefully maintained façade. A wealthy, powerful, exemplary family. But a blind, unstable daughter, treated like a shadow, could become their greatest liability. If Y/N became a public problem, if the rumors about her spread, if her very existence became an unbearable burden, the Delarives would begin to falter.

By entering her world, he intended to manipulate her, feed her despair, and use her isolation against them. He wanted them to reject her even more violently, to expose themselves to the county as the monsters they truly were. Once they were weakened, he would strike at the heart, revealing the truth about the wealth they had stolen from his family.

But as he got closer to Y/N, he discovered a reality he had not anticipated: she was not just a tool, a weapon to sharpen against them. She was a broken soul, haunted by a life of contempt and solitude.

It had been several days since he had entered her service, and each interaction unsettled him more and more. Y/N was nothing like her brothers, sisters, or father. She had none of their arrogance or cruelty. Instead, she was a wounded creature, hiding behind walls of anger and mistrust.

And yet, she fought. She fought against him, against her own weakness, against the fear that held her captive. He had seen her reject food, refuse to wash, throw objects in fits of almost childlike rage. But beyond those impulsive gestures, he also saw a woman who had learned to survive alone in a house that hated her.

He hadn’t expected his anger to clash with his humanity.

That evening, after Y/N had finally eaten for the first time without resistance, Cassius allowed himself a moment of reflection. He had not yet advanced in his plan. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to focus on his revenge, to remain cold and methodical. But a part of him, small and silent, was beginning to stir.

Was she truly like the rest of her family?

He shook his head, pushing the thought aside. Innocent or guilty, it didn’t matter—she was still a link in the chain that had destroyed his family. By becoming her servant, he had not committed to protecting her. He had committed to bringing down the Delarives.

But for now, he had to remain patient. He had to continue playing the perfect role. Earn Y/N’s trust just enough to guide her where he wanted. No matter if it meant enduring her outbursts or her insults. No matter if it meant walking the fine line between obsession and pity.

As he blew out the candle in his room, his final thoughts were of her, the "young mistress" he addressed not out of respect, but out of irony.

“I will lead you where I want, my lady,” he murmured into the darkness. “Whether you want it or not.”

---

The next morning, the sun timidly pierced through the thick curtains of the annex, casting a soft, pale light into Y/N’s room. She sat on her bed, motionless, listening intently for any sound. Cassius had not entered yet. It worried her, though she would never admit it out loud.

Since his arrival, he had been constant, present like a shadow she couldn’t dispel. And despite her efforts to push him away, he always returned, unwavering. She should have been relieved that he was late. Yet instead, a strange emptiness was growing inside her chest.

Finally, the familiar sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, and the door creaked open. Cassius entered, carrying another tray of food. As usual, his expression was calm, but his eyes quickly scanned her, as if ensuring she was safe.

“You’re late,” she snapped, her tone sharp, though her voice was weaker than usual.

He raised an eyebrow, amused by her remark. “I didn’t know you were waiting for me, my lady.”

She turned her head away, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. “I wasn’t waiting. I was merely noting your lack of punctuality.”

He placed the tray near her and settled into a chair, as if this conversation was just part of their usual routine. “You’re observant today. Perhaps you’re simply in a better mood.”

Y/N frowned, irritated by his light tone. “Don’t act as if you know me. You know nothing about me.”

He remained silent for a moment, his eyes softening almost imperceptibly. “You’re right, I don’t know everything. But I observe you, and every day, I learn a little more.”

She clenched the sheets beneath her fists, his words both aggravating and unsettling her. “You’re wasting your time, Cassius. I am not like the others. I am not… normal. You can’t learn anything from me.”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, his expression turning serious. “Not normal, you say? Because you’re blind? Because your family cast you aside? Is that what you believe, or what they made you believe?”

Her breath caught in her throat. His words, though spoken gently, struck her like a blade. She turned her head away, biting the inside of her cheek to hold back the tears threatening to fall.

His voice softened even more as he continued, “My lady, perhaps you don’t need me. But I need you.”

His declaration unsettled her, and she sat up slightly, her heart pounding. “You… need me? Why?”

Cassius rose from his chair, his gaze unwavering. “Because you are the key. The key to breaking free from the prison your family built around you.”

He paused, then added in a quieter tone, “And perhaps also… because I want to see what you’re capable of, Y/N.”

It was the first time he had spoken her name without the title of "my lady." She didn’t know why it affected her so much, but a strange warmth spread through her chest.

He turned away then, picking up the empty tray from the previous day, and stopped at the door. “Eat. And get ready. I’ll be back to take you outside. You’ve spent too much time locked in here.”

“Outside?” she repeated, alarmed.

He didn’t answer, closing the door behind him.

Cassius knew it was risky. Taking her beyond the annex could draw attention, and the Delarives were not the type to appreciate their "secret" being exposed. But he needed her to leave this prison. Not just for her, but for himself. He had to understand just how far he could push this strange connection forming between them.

Destroying the Delarives was still his goal, but a part of him was beginning to wonder if Y/N, despite her ties to that cursed family, deserved something else.

And that… he couldn’t afford to consider. Not yet.

But the game was changing. Slowly, but surely.

---

Cassius watched as Y/N struggled to stand. Her frail, trembling legs seemed incapable of supporting her weight. It had been months, perhaps years, since she had truly moved beyond her bed, and her body reflected it—every movement was hesitant, clumsy, almost painful to witness.

She clenched her fists, frustrated, and attempted a step. But before she could advance, her knees buckled. Cassius rushed forward, catching her in his arms before she could collapse.

“Let me go!” she growled, but her voice wavered more than it held strength.

He ignored her protest, gently setting her upright again, his hands steady on her shoulders to keep her balanced. “My lady, you are stubborn, but you can’t do everything alone.”

“I don’t need you. I can walk!”

She tried to pull away, but Cassius remained firm. His expression was calm, yet his heart pounded with an intensity he couldn’t explain. Seeing Y/N in this vulnerable state stirred a strange contradiction within him—a mix of admiration for her strength and a pain he refused to acknowledge.

Day after day, he helped her learn to walk again. Each morning, he supported her gently, his hands always ready to catch her if she fell. At first, she resisted, throwing insults and bitter words at him to make him leave. But over time, an unspoken truce settled between them.

Cassius said nothing, but he observed. He noticed the small victories in her movements—the way she managed to stand a little longer each day or the fleeting hint of a smile she refused to let linger when she succeeded in taking a step without his help.

He found himself watching her longer than he should, his gaze drawn to the determination shining on her face. This young woman, whom he had first considered nothing more than a tool in his plan for vengeance, was becoming something else. But he refused to put a name to what he was feeling.

One day, after multiple failed attempts, Y/N finally managed to walk with relative stability. Cassius decided it was time to take her outside.

“Are you ready, my lady?” he asked, adjusting a scarf around her shoulders.

Y/N hesitated, her hand brushing uncertainly against the fabric. “I’m not sure… I’ve never gone out alone before.”

“You’re not alone. I’m here.”

Those simple words, spoken with sincerity, had a calming effect on her. She nodded timidly, and he took her hand in his, guiding her out of the annex.

The outside air was crisp, filled with the songs of birds. Y/N inhaled deeply, as if rediscovering a world she had long forgotten. Cassius walked beside her, his hands firmly placed over hers to guide her along the forest paths.

“It’s different…” she murmured.

“Different how?”

“I don’t know. The air smells… more alive here. And I hear things. Birds. The wind in the trees.”

He glanced at her, fascinated. Every word she spoke revealed a curiosity she had buried under years of fear and mistrust. A strange warmth filled his chest—an emotion he didn’t want to name: pride.

But as they walked, Cassius noticed something in the distance, beyond the grove of trees. A dark figure stood among the shadows, and his instincts screamed at him to investigate.

“Stay here, my lady,” he said quickly.

“Where are you going?” Y/N asked, her voice tense.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t move.”

Before she could protest, he released her hands and disappeared into the trees.

At first, Y/N remained still, trying to calm the unease growing inside her. But soon, the very sounds of the forest that had fascinated her moments ago became threatening. The rustling leaves, the snapping branches—everything seemed to close in around her.

She reached out, searching for something solid, but the emptiness around her filled her with terror.

“Cassius!” she called out, but only the echo of her voice answered.

Panic took over. She turned in circles, her feet stumbling over roots and stones. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks as fear and anger twisted inside her in an uncontrollable storm.

When Cassius finally returned, he found her curled up on the ground, her hands trembling with rage. As soon as she heard his footsteps, she lifted her head and screamed at him:

“Where were you?! You left me! You left me all alone!”

He immediately knelt beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’m here now. You’re safe, my lady.”

But she didn’t want to calm down. She weakly struck his chest over and over, her gestures fueled more by desperation than true anger. “You abandoned me… I… I waited for you. I… I never want to be alone like that again!”

Cassius gently caught her wrists, stopping her weak blows, his gaze filled with guilt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I won’t leave you alone again.”

At last, she stilled, her hands relaxing in his. But instead of pulling away, she clung to his clothes, her fingers gripping his tunic with desperate force.

“Promise me,” she whispered.

“I promise, my lady,” he answered softly.

For the first time, Cassius felt a weight settle in his chest. He knew that this promise, as simple as it seemed, was far more than just words. It was a line he had just crossed, a barrier he could no longer ignore.

---

The wind had picked up, rustling the curtains of the annex. Cassius sat near the window, his mind occupied with his plan. Since his arrival, he had patiently studied the weaknesses of the Delarive family. He knew their habits, their secrets, and their vulnerabilities. But what troubled him most was Y/N.

Since that promise in the forest, something within him had changed. She was no longer just a means to an end. He felt a responsibility toward her—an inexplicable desire to protect her. A contradiction that tore at him more and more each day.

Yet, he never forgot why he was there. Today, he had to move forward with his plan. He had not yet decided how to use Y/N against her family, but an opportunity presented itself sooner than expected.

That morning, as he helped Y/N prepare for her daily walk, the sound of carriage wheels echoed outside. Y/N froze, listening intently.

"What is that?" she asked warily.

Cassius glanced out the window and saw two figures stepping down from the carriage. A man and a woman, elegantly dressed, approached the annex. He recognized them immediately: Y/N’s older brother, Charles, and her younger sister, Adeline.

"Your family," he answered calmly.

Y/N paled, her fingers clutching nervously at the fabric of her dress. "Why are they here? They never come… unless…"

Cassius placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Whatever their intentions, I am here. Stay calm, my lady."

She nodded, but her entire body trembled.

A few minutes later, Charles and Adeline entered the annex, their imposing presence filling the small space. Charles, tall and austere, regarded Y/N with a gaze full of contempt, while Adeline wore a smug smile, lazily flicking her fan through the air.

"Well, Y/N," Charles drawled sarcastically. "You’re as charming as ever. Solitude seems to suit you."

Adeline let out a crystalline laugh. "You could at least make an effort to look presentable. Even in such a pitiful state, you could have a shred of dignity."

Y/N remained silent, her hands trembling slightly. Cassius, standing behind her, clenched his fists. He knew he couldn’t openly interfere, but watching Y/N endure such humiliation ignited a fury within him that was hard to suppress.

"What do you want?" Y/N asked in a hoarse voice.

Charles stepped forward, a predatory smirk on his lips. "What do we want? Come now, Y/N, we’re simply here to check on you. After all, you are our dear sister."

Adeline added with false sweetness, "We were worried. You know, rumors in the county are getting out of hand. Some people are saying… terrible things. You should be careful."

Y/N felt her heart grow heavy. She knew exactly what they meant. This was no visit of concern. They were here to ensure she remained in her place—out of sight, away from the power they wielded.

Seeing Y/N crumble under their verbal assaults, Cassius decided to step in. He moved forward slightly, placing himself between her and her tormentors.

"May I offer you something to drink, sir, madam?" he asked politely, his tone measured, but his eyes betraying a cold determination.

Charles eyed him with disdain. "And who are you?"

"Cassius, my lady’s personal servant," he replied, deliberately emphasizing the title.

Adeline raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Personal? Why on earth would she need a personal servant? She does nothing but exist."

Cassius forced a smile. "Precisely. It is my duty to ensure she has everything she needs, despite… the circumstances."

Charles narrowed his eyes, suspicion flickering across his face. "You seem overly zealous for someone of your station."

"I am merely fulfilling my duty, sir," Cassius said with a practiced bow.

During the brief exchange, he felt Y/N subtly clutch at his sleeve, seeking silent support. That small gesture only strengthened his resolve.

When Charles and Adeline finally left, Cassius remained by the window, watching the carriage disappear down the path. He knew they would return. Their arrogance and need for control would not allow them to ignore Y/N for long.

But that played to his advantage. The more they interfered, the more opportunities he had to sow discord.

Y/N, meanwhile, looked exhausted, curled up in the chair. "Why… why didn’t you chase them away?" she murmured.

Cassius knelt beside her, placing a hand over hers. "Because they must not suspect that you have regained any strength, however small. Letting them believe they still hold control is our greatest weapon."

She lifted her head, her unseeing eyes fixed on a point beyond him. "You say ‘our.’ Why are you doing this for me?"

He hesitated for a moment before answering softly, "Because you deserve better than them. And because sometimes, one must wait for the right moment to strike."

She didn’t fully grasp the deeper meaning behind his words, but something in his voice soothed her.

Cassius, however, knew that every word he spoke was another step forward in his strategy. For now, he played the role of the protector. But soon, he would turn their own weapons against them, and the Delarives would regret stealing what rightfully belonged to his family.

---

Night had fallen, wrapping the annex in a heavy silence. Cassius sat at his desk in the small room he occupied near Y/N’s chamber, studying a map of the estate he had acquired during one of his incursions into the main house. Every secret passage, every hiding place of the Delarive family was now etched into his mind.

Between his fingers, he held a golden brooch adorned with a ruby—a remnant of his family’s former wealth. The Delarives had once owned it, but he had reclaimed it during a visit to the manor’s library. A small victory among the many he planned to achieve.

For Cassius, the visit from Charles and Adeline had confirmed one thing: their contempt for Y/N was their Achilles’ heel. Their arrogance, their certainty that she posed no threat, would be the very weakness through which he would infiltrate and destroy them.

The next day, Cassius decided to initiate the first phase of his plan: strengthening Y/N.

He knew she would never be a willing ally. Her distrust and isolation made her wild and unpredictable. But he had observed, in her rare moments of calm, a spark of intelligence and strength that he could use to his advantage.

At dawn, he entered her room, carrying a plate of food in one hand and a wooden staff in the other.

“Here again to force me to eat?” Y/N grumbled, turning her head toward the door.

Cassius set the plate on the table. “My lady, you need strength. Not just to walk, but to resist those who wish to harm you.”

She narrowed her eyes, wary. “What do you mean?”

He sat calmly on a chair across from her. “Your brother and sister will return. And they won’t come just to talk. You must be ready to defend yourself.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “You want me, a blind woman, to defend myself against them? What a joke.”

“Blindness is not a weakness,” he replied gently. “Your other senses are sharper than you think. And with a little training, you could surprise anyone.”

Y/N remained silent, torn between rejecting his words and accepting them. She had spent her whole life as a victim, but a part of her longed to be something more.

“If I refuse, you’ll force me, won’t you?” she murmured.

Cassius gave the faintest of smiles. “You’re starting to understand me.”

He began with simple exercises. He had her hold the staff, helping her get familiar with its weight and texture. Then, he guided her through basic movements, teaching her to strike in different directions using only sound as her guide.

“Listen,” he said with every lesson. “Every sound tells a story. The rustle of fabric, the creak of wood underfoot… they tell you where your opponent is.”

At first, Y/N was hesitant, often stumbling or striking into empty air. But Cassius was patient. Every correction was gentle, every encouragement sincere.

Over time, she began to improve. Her stance grew steadier, her movements more precise.

One afternoon, he decided to test her outside. He led her to the garden near the annex, a place where she could hear the birds and smell the flowers.

“We’re going to play a game,” he announced. “I’ll walk around you, and you have to find me. Use your ears, your instinct.”

She frowned. “This is ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he replied with a light laugh. “But try anyway.”

He stepped away, moving in a slow circle around her, his footsteps deliberately light. Y/N remained still, focused. Then, suddenly, she lifted the staff and struck in his direction.

He dodged swiftly, but a proud smile lit up his face. “Well done, my lady. You found me.”

Y/N lowered the staff, a mix of surprise and pride crossing her features. “That was just luck.”

“Perhaps. But it’s a start.”

---

Dawn cast a pale light over the annex when Cassius was awakened by urgent knocks at the door. A servant, sent from the main house, delivered news that made a cold smile form on his lips, despite the grave tone in which it was spoken.

“An emergency meeting will be held tonight in the grand salon. Master Charles and Miss Adeline have summoned important guests from the county. It seems to be a pressing matter concerning the family.”

Cassius nodded slowly, masking his excitement behind a veil of calm. He could already guess what was happening. Something unexpected must have threatened the Delarives—something they were desperate to silence.

By discreetly listening to the servants’ conversations and piecing together clues, Cassius quickly understood. An anonymous letter had been sent to several county officials, accusing the Delarives of amassing their wealth through illicit means, by unlawfully seizing the assets of a fallen noble family.

It was the kind of rumor that could destroy a reputation, especially in a society where family honor was everything. Cassius knew this was the moment he had been waiting for all these years. If the rumor gained traction, it would bring the Delarives to their knees, shattering both their fortune and their status.

But there was a shadow over his impending triumph. A shadow that bore the name of Y/N.

Since that night in the forest, Y/N had become slightly more open. She spoke more, though her words still carried traces of distrust. She had started to smile again—a rare, fragile, yet sincere smile. Cassius couldn’t help but notice the unsteady beat of his heart whenever she laughed softly, whenever she found a fleeting moment of peace.

As he prepared for the next steps in his revenge, he caught himself thinking of her. Not in terms of how she could be useful to him, but of what would become of her afterward.

If the Delarive family fell, Y/N would be the first to suffer. Isolated, despised by all, she would become an easy target for the rest of the county. Worse still, she could be cast out into the streets, unable to survive on her own because of her blindness.

The thought haunted him, no matter how much he tried to ignore it.

On the night of the meeting, Cassius slipped silently through the corridors of the main house. He had carefully planned his next move. While the county officials gathered in the grand salon, he used the chaos to sneak into Charles’ office, stealing incriminating documents—irrefutable proof of embezzlement and illegal acquisitions.

With these documents, he could ignite a scandal so massive that the Delarives would never recover.

But as he made his way back to the annex, his steps slowed. Each page in his hands was a step closer to his vengeance, but also a sentence for Y/N.

She was waiting for him in the sitting room, seated in her favorite chair. She turned her head slightly at the sound of his footsteps.

“You’re late,” she murmured.

Cassius placed the documents gently on the table before stepping toward her. “Important matters.”

She furrowed her brows slightly. “You’re always busy. Sometimes, I feel like you do so many things I don’t understand.”

He knelt before her, taking her hands in his. “What if I told you that I do all of this for you?”

She pulled her hands away abruptly, instinctive distrust flashing across her face. “Why would you do that? I’m nothing. A blind girl that everyone despises.”

“You are far more than that, Y/N,” he said, his voice carrying a warmth he hadn’t intended.

She remained silent, troubled by the sincerity in his tone.

Later, alone in his room, Cassius stared at the documents spread across his desk. The plan he had built for years was nearly complete. All he had to do was send the evidence to the right people, and the Delarives would be ruined.

But one question echoed in his mind: what would happen to Y/N afterward?

He could already see the look on her face when she learned the truth. The contempt she would feel for him, the pain of being betrayed by the only person she had begun to trust.

For the first time since his quest for revenge had begun, Cassius hesitated. Not because he doubted his plan, but because his heart—one he had believed to be hardened—was starting to stir.

He spent the night weighing his options. Part of him wanted to move forward without looking back, to fulfill the vow he had made to his family. But another part—the one that remembered Y/N’s laughter, the way her hand had clung to his in the forest—refused to sacrifice her for his hatred.

By dawn, Cassius knew he had to make a choice. Either he completed his revenge, even if it meant losing Y/N forever, or he found a way to save her—even if it meant abandoning his plan.

He stood, his dark eyes fixed on the horizon.

For the first time, he felt lost.

His heart and his reason were at war, and he did not yet know which would prevail.

---

The morning was cold, but a light breeze rustled the leaves of the trees surrounding the annex. The sky was clear, scattered with wisps of clouds, and everything felt calm, almost unreal. Yet, a tension lingered in the air, a fragile balance between what Cassius had planned and Y/N’s desires—desires he couldn’t quite understand. That morning, he watched her prepare with an energy he hadn’t seen in a long time.

She insisted on going outside.

She, who usually spent her days indoors, hiding beneath blankets or behind invisible walls only her eyes could perceive, suddenly seemed full of life. There was no apparent reason for this drastic change. Cassius observed her, perplexed, as he helped her put on warm clothes—a thick wool coat, a scarf around her neck, gloves. He protected her as he always did, yet something about her seemed to slip beyond his understanding. She seemed... almost happy.

"You don’t have to follow me today," she said abruptly as he adjusted her scarf. Her words were almost detached, as if she was trying to push him away. But in her tone, there was also a note of softness, almost a challenge. She knew he would follow her, no matter what she said.

Cassius didn’t respond immediately. He was used to this now. Over the past few weeks, she had become more and more unpredictable. He hadn’t planned for that, but he didn’t mind. He followed her in silence, his thoughts still troubled by his own inner conflicts. He couldn’t understand why he felt so torn. Why did this simple walk feel so heavy to him?

They walked together, the icy air biting at their faces, but there was no conversation. Y/N’s steps were a little hesitant, still uncertain, but steadier than before. A faint smile tugged at Cassius’s lips as he watched her so determined. He accompanied her without question, simply guiding her when needed.

Then, suddenly, in a moment of inattention, Y/N let go of his hand. He felt his heart stop for an instant, a shiver of panic running through him. She moved quickly toward a tree a few steps away.

"Y/N!" he called, but it was too late. She was already climbing.

In a matter of seconds, she pulled herself onto the lowest branch, and with astonishing grace, climbed higher, smiling as if the whole world was nothing but a playground.

Cassius froze, caught between shock and concern. His mind raced, imagining hundreds of scenarios where she could fall, where she could get hurt. But when he lifted his gaze to her, he saw something unexpected—she was laughing. Laughing! She laughed like a child, completely oblivious to the danger she had just created.

There she was, perched at a height he didn’t consider safe, and her eyes, though unable to see the world around her, shone with light and freedom. She smiled, the wind playing with her hair, and for a fraction of a second, she seemed... alive in a way he had never imagined.

He felt lost.

This wasn’t the fragile girl he had grown used to, the one who stayed in bed, shielding herself from the world. No, this was a different Y/N—stronger, more defiant. She was there, challenging the height, challenging everything he thought he knew about her.

"Do you need a hand?" he called up to her, a hint of worry in his voice despite the smile he tried to hide.

She laughed even louder, the sound ringing through the crisp air. "Are you really trying to stop me from having fun?" she teased, a playfulness in her voice he had never heard before.

He stepped cautiously closer to the tree, his eyes never leaving her movements, ready to catch her if necessary.

He could have ordered her to come down, scolded her for taking such a reckless risk, but instead, he just watched her, an unfamiliar sense of admiration creeping into his chest.

She looked... free.

And yet, with every smile she gave him, with every laugh that echoed in the air, he realized he still didn’t understand.

How could he love this girl while knowing he was about to destroy everything she had? Knowing that, inevitably, he would lose her?

Suddenly, he became aware that he was standing there, beneath the tree, hesitating—trapped in an internal conflict he could no longer ignore.

On one side, there was the plan, the revenge he had nurtured for years.

On the other, there was her—this elusive girl who had appeared like a ray of light in his dark world.

What should he do?

She finally climbed down, landing gracefully on the ground like a cat. When she turned to face him, her smile faded slightly. "Do you want to go back?" she asked softly, suddenly sounding less carefree, as if, somehow, she knew something had changed between them.

Cassius looked at her, a storm of thoughts swirling in his mind.

But only one question remained, firmly rooted in his heart:

What would happen to her after all of this?

---

Cassius spent his days in a constant state of inner turmoil, torn between his quest for revenge and the growing shadow of his feelings for Y/N. Every gesture, every word from the young woman seemed to unsettle him, pushing him to doubt his intentions. It was no longer just a matter of justice to him; it had become a question of emotional survival. The plan he had put in place, the one he had meticulously crafted, no longer made sense.

The compromising documents, the revenge he had envisioned—all of it was gradually falling apart in the face of what he felt for her. How could he destroy the family that had mistreated him while saving Y/N from the same fate he had in store for her? How could he protect her while pursuing his own quest for justice? Every time he asked himself this question, the answer remained vague, elusive.

He could no longer look at her without thinking about what he would inflict on her. And yet, he was so drawn to her, to her fragility, but also to her unexpected strength. She had something purely human about her, an inner beauty he hadn’t seen coming, and it struck him with every glance.

But everything changed one morning.

That morning, he realized he could no longer ignore the signs. Y/N, who had usually been in better health than in recent days, suddenly seemed exhausted, almost lifeless. She wasn’t getting up like she usually did, and when he joined her in the small room where she spent most of her time, he noticed her pale complexion. Her cheeks, usually rosy, were now a grayish tint, almost translucent.

"Y/N?" he called gently as he approached.

She barely lifted her head, her eyes half-closed, and her breathing seemed heavier than usual. She touched her temple, and a shiver ran through her body.

"I… I’m just a little tired…" she murmured, but her voice was weak, trembling.

Cassius, although used to keeping a certain distance, couldn’t hold back a shiver of concern. He knelt beside her, a strange sensation of vulnerability overwhelming him. He had never seen Y/N in such a state. The reality of her fragility, of her dependence on him, hit him like a punch in the stomach.

He gently lifted her to carry her to her bed, her body trembling with fever.

As the day wore on, the situation quickly deteriorated. Y/N had developed a high fever, her body shaking beneath the covers as she was completely disoriented, almost lost. She could no longer speak coherently, and her arms frantically tried to cling to him, like an anchor.

She kept repeating incoherent words, her voice broken by fever. "Don’t leave me… I’m scared…"

Cassius felt a dull pain invade his chest. This couldn’t be happening, not after everything he had planned. Not after everything he had built. Why the hell did he feel so powerless? He had never considered that his own plan for revenge could one day make him feel so vulnerable. It wasn’t part of the calculations.

He reached into his emergency bag and prepared warm water for a compress. His hands trembled slightly. As he helped cool her down, he felt her burning skin, struggling against the intense heat that seemed to consume her from the inside. She clung to him tighter, unable to find comfort elsewhere.

"I’m here," he whispered to her, although the words seemed insignificant in the face of the pain he saw in her eyes. "I won’t leave you."

She closed her eyes, folding into him, as if his mere presence was the only thing that could reassure her.

He knew he needed to find a doctor. But at that moment, nothing mattered more to him than staying by her side.

As he kept vigil over her, he found himself looking at her more intensely. She was no longer just the girl he had known in the coldness of the annex, nor even the object of his revenge. She was a young woman, lost and fragile, but also incredibly alive, who had pulled him into a whirlwind of emotions and doubts he no longer knew how to handle. He had tried to ignore her, to push her away, but he had never been able to.

And there, in that room, holding her against him, feeling the heat of her burning body, he finally understood what he needed to do.

He couldn’t let her die.

Not now, not ever.

But how could he save Y/N while destroying his family? How could he fix everything he had broken in her without being the one who had destroyed her? This dilemma remained as heavy as a burden he could no longer bear alone.

He looked at Y/N, her face, usually so closed off, now peaceful in sleep, her features softened by the fever. She had given him a trust he hadn’t asked for, but that he hadn’t known how to refuse.

She was no longer an instrument of vengeance, no longer just a target. She had become… his responsibility.

And for the first time, Cassius wondered if he needed her as much as she needed him.

---

The morning rose peacefully over the annex, a soft light filtering through the still-closed curtains. Y/N's fever had slightly subsided through the night, though it was still present. She was still sleeping, her pale face marked by exhaustion, but a sense of tranquility had replaced the restlessness of the previous day. Cassius, still by her side, silently observed the scene, his thoughts in turmoil.

He finally stood up to approach her, taking a moment to appreciate the simplicity of the moment. The weight of revenge, his relentless plan, suddenly seemed so distant, almost blurry. In this confined space, he no longer saw Y/N as the target of a complex scheme. No, he saw only a fragile, vulnerable young woman, dependent on him in a way he never could have imagined.

Suddenly, a slight movement. Y/N shifted under the covers, her hands trembling before reaching out slowly, with surprising gentleness. She extended her fingers as though trying to identify something in the darkness of the room. Her fingers slid slowly over Cassius's face, first on his cheek, then on his forehead, his eyes, exploring his face as if it were a mysterious puzzle she was trying to solve. She was blind, of course, but her movements were so filled with delicacy, with an almost innocent curiosity.

"Is it you?" Her voice was broken, but there was no aggression in her words. Just a softness, almost fragile, as though she sought the truth in a world she couldn’t see.

Cassius, caught off guard, remained still. He hadn't imagined that she would act this way, that in this state of weakness, she would allow herself to touch his face with such ease. It was a tender gesture, and it made a lump form in his throat. Part of him wanted to push her away, remind her of the reasons he was there. But another side of him, deeper, simply wanted to stay there, under her fingers, to be touched like an ordinary man, without the weight of revenge on his shoulders.

She finally turned away, as if she had found her answer, but her trembling fingers lingered for a moment, suspended in the air, before lowering back down onto the sheet.

"You're not what I thought," she murmured more softly, as if in realization.

A shockwave ran through Cassius. She wasn’t just a victim in his plan, not a puppet for his revenge. She was more than that. He wasn’t ready for this recognition, this return from Y/N. His own feelings seemed to change, realigning with each moment he spent by her side. The plan he had put together so carefully, every detail designed to destroy her family, suddenly became difficult to carry out. The image of Y/N blurred in his mind.

But he didn’t have time to lose himself in his thoughts. An unexpected visit arrived in the afternoon.

In the neighboring room, a messenger from the empire came to bring him urgent news. It was the man with whom he had long formed ties in the shadows, an influential figure in the empire who shared his ambitions. After exchanging a few words, the man presented an audacious proposal: an opportunity to take possession of Y/N's family fortune after their fall. This fortune, once belonging to his family, would now be in his hands, and all he had to do was continue his revenge, ensuring her family’s destruction.

Cassius felt a cold chill take over him, but it wasn’t because of the approaching winter. It was the heavy realization that flooded him. This proposal reeked of power, of revenge, but it was also poison. Every piece of the puzzle seemed to fit perfectly. The revenge he had built, as solid as a house of cards, seemed ready to collapse at any moment. But the question remained: would he be able to see it through?

He didn’t have time to respond immediately. His thoughts were spinning too fast, a mix of anger and confusion.

In the back of his mind, he knew what he had to do. This was the moment he had been waiting for, the chance to reclaim what he had lost. But deep in his heart, something more profound tormented him.

When he returned to Y/N’s room, he found her sleeping, her breathing calmer, but her fever hadn’t fully gone. Her face seemed more peaceful, without the frantic restlessness of the previous day. A faint smile formed on her lips as she slept, and a painful thought brushed Cassius’s mind.

How could he continue to treat her as a mere victim of his plan, when she was showing him a trust he hadn’t anticipated? He felt torn. He didn’t want to be that cold monster who would destroy her family, but he had invested too much time in this revenge to erase it all. And now that Y/N was closer to him, more human, he realized he didn’t know if revenge was still the only thing he truly desired.

Suddenly, he felt trapped. He had the opportunity to annihilate Y/N's family and seize a vast fortune, but at what cost? And what would happen to Y/N in all of this? The mere thought of seeing her destroyed because of his own desire for revenge put him in a state of deep confusion. His emotions were at war, and he no longer had any certainty about the path ahead.

He sat down beside the bed, looking at her deeply, as though it were the last time he could truly see her without the weight of his vengeance. But, deep down, he knew the time for decisions was near. The question now was simple: would he be able to sacrifice everything for a different future? A future with her, or a future where he would be alone with his revenge?

But for now, all that mattered was Y/N’s fever. He would watch over her, again and again, without knowing what the future held.

---

The morning light barely filtered through the windows when Cassius rose, his eyes fixed on Y/N's face. She was still asleep, her features calm as the fever that had gripped her slowly began to fade. Yet, in the silence of the room, he could feel the weight of his own thoughts, the vise tightening around his heart and mind. He no longer had room for indecision.

The messenger, the influential man from the empire, had handed him the opportunity he had long dreamed of. Revenge was within reach. Y/N's family, the family that had brought about his downfall, would soon be shattered, and the fortune he sought would fall into his hands. A brand-new empire to build from the ashes of those who had destroyed him. In his mind, it was a perfect plan. He had crafted it with precision, every move calculated, every detail considered.

But something had changed, something subtle yet powerful. It was the image of Y/N, fragile, vulnerable, caught between fear and trust. She, despite her wounds, her anger, and her mistrust, had allowed him to get close. She, in her greatest weakness, had reached out to him. She, despite her blindness, seemed to see something in him that he didn’t understand, but that deep in his heart, had transformed him.

Days passed, and each moment spent by her side seemed to reshape his view of the world. He had sworn that nothing, no one, would stop him in his pursuit of revenge. But now, he found himself at a crossroads. Revenge… or Y/N.

He turned toward her, his eyes fixed on the fragile figure lying in her bed. He remembered the way she had touched him, trying to understand the mystery of his face, as if she believed he was anything but what he appeared to be. That gesture had marked him more than he had ever imagined. An indelible memory. A doubt. A conflict.

A long sigh escaped his lips as he stood. His mind fought against itself, torn between the calculated coldness of his revenge and the strange warmth that seemed to rise within him for Y/N. He could no longer pretend that all of this was just about a plan. His feelings were now intertwined in a complex and painful web.

He approached Y/N, kneeling beside the bed. He looked at her for a moment, hesitating. Then, he gently reached out toward her forehead, touching her fevered skin. He remembered the warmth of her fingers when she had brushed his face, the strange connection that had formed with each encounter, each word exchanged. The tenderness he had felt in that sudden touch… He couldn’t ignore it. She wasn’t like the others, but not in the way he had once thought. She wasn’t weak. She was just… human.

"I will protect you," he murmured, almost like a vow.

The decision, finally, was taking shape. Cassius knew what he had to do. He could no longer manipulate Y/N. He could no longer view her as a mere pawn in his game. He had seen her, listened to her, and now he understood her more than he ever felt capable of. It was her family he wanted to destroy, not her. And if that meant changing his plans, taking reckless risks to help her, then he was ready to do it.

It wasn’t revenge that called to him now. It was her. Y/N. The young woman he had come to know, who, despite all she had endured, possessed a strength he never would have believed could exist within her.

He stood up, his gaze resolute. The outside world would take care of its own cruelties. But Y/N, she deserved something different. And for the first time since he had entered her life, Cassius felt he was making a decision for himself. Not for his family, nor for his past. But for her.

He leaned over her again, this time with gentleness, and caressed her cheek. The moment had come.

"I will save you, Y/N," he said more firmly. "I will save what I can save."

He had made his decision. Everything was now clear. His thoughts were untangling, and the horizon before him seemed as uncertain as it was promising. Revenge, wealth—none of it mattered anymore. What he wanted now was to protect her.

And to do that, he knew his allies in the empire, those who had supported his machinations, would soon be in conflict with him. But he was ready. The man who had designed such a cold, precise plan was now being carried away by another feeling, one more human, more pure.

The coming days would be crucial. The lines between love, loyalty, and revenge would likely blur. But Cassius was no longer afraid to face that truth. He would save Y/N. No matter the cost.

---

The nights stretched into a litany of reflections and torment. Each minute, each moment spent with Y/N slowly broke down the walls of his certainties. Cassius had sworn, multiple times, not to let his feelings interfere with his revenge. He had told himself that everything he was doing was to right the wrong done to his family, to take back what life had stolen from him. But with every glance he cast at Y/N, every time he saw her in her innocence, in her vulnerability, he felt something he had not anticipated.

He had not seen this coming. He had not understood the subtlety of the bond that had formed between them, slowly but surely. His emotions had become a whirlwind, his thoughts in perpetual battle. He had first seen her as an opportunity, a mere means to an end, but gradually, she had become more than that to him. A presence that occupied his mind far more than he would have liked.

He had watched her closely, the way she had clung to him during her illness, that fragile trust that slipped into her gestures, her words, her gaze. She had opened a door to him that he had never wanted to cross. The touch of her hands, the tenderness she had shown despite her blindness and pain… All of this had left indelible marks on his heart.

One evening, as he stood by the window, watching the glow of the moon reflecting off the calm surface of the nearby river, Cassius realized the truth. It was a raw revelation, without embellishments. He had fallen in love with her. He had tried to ignore it, to push the idea away, to convince himself it was just a distraction, a fleeting moment in the grand scheme of his revenge. But it was no longer possible.

The smile that formed on his lips was both sweet and bitter. He had lost himself, and he knew it. But strangely, this realization was not a source of suffering, as he had believed it would be. No, on the contrary. It brought a certain lightness to his heart, as if, somehow, he had found a little clarity amidst all the chaos.

He was no longer the same man. The revenge he had carried for years had dulled under the weight of his feelings for her. But the time had not yet come to abandon everything, not just yet.

A few days after this realization, an unexpected call broke the silence. It was a message from one of his connections in the empire, a powerful figure who reminded him of the offer he had received. The opportunity to carry out his revenge, to ruin Y/N's family once and for all, was within reach. It was only a matter of time.

And then, the unthinkable happened: Cassius found himself facing reality, torn between two worlds. The revenge that had brought him this far, and Y/N, the love he had discovered in her.

In the end, he knew what he had to do. Revenge could no longer be the only thing that mattered. But he couldn’t ignore what he had started either. He had not yet finished what he had begun. It was a commitment he had made to himself, and he could not go back, even if his heart screamed at him to flee with her, to abandon everything.

He woke up early one morning after making his decision. Y/N was sleeping deeply, and even though she was still weak, he knew she would wake up soon. He looked at her one last time, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions. He approached the bed, gazed at her tenderly, and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

"I will return," he murmured, almost like a vow, a promise to himself more than to her.

Then, silently, he left the annex, taking the path that would lead him away from her, toward the place where his revenge still awaited to be completed. Every step he took was heavy, every decision seemed to wrap around him like an invisible rope.

However, in his heart, a small flame burned, a spark of hope he could not ignore. Y/N, despite everything, had changed his world. He didn’t yet know how or when, but he knew he would return to her. The revenge would be finished, but there was a future to rebuild. A future where, perhaps, by her side, he would finally find peace.

The wind was blowing strongly that morning, carrying away a part of his certainties. But something new, something truer than revenge, was growing inside him. And deep down, he knew it was that love he had to protect, far more than anything else.

---

The days passed with an almost unbearable slowness. Cassius had carried out his revenge with the precision of a strategist, each move carefully calculated, every trap set with ruthless mastery. He had used his allies in the empire to orchestrate the fall of Y/N’s family, acting in the shadows, manipulating the weaknesses of those who had stripped his family of their lands and titles. Schemes, rumors, false testimonies… everything was put in place to dismantle what had been taken from his family and return it to his own bloodline.

Y/N knew nothing of what was happening. She was still weak, still recovering from the fever that had shaken her, and Cassius continued to protect her, keeping her away from the dangers without her noticing. He had never wanted her to suffer any more because of his past. But he, himself, immersed in this world of manipulation and strategy, had lost all sense of direction. The revenge had been carried out. The titles, the lands, the fortune were now his.

When the final blow was struck, when the judges, corrupted and influenced by his maneuvers, brought down Y/N’s family, he felt neither satisfaction nor relief. On the contrary, a heavy weight settled on his shoulders. Everything he had accomplished, everything he had sought to obtain suddenly seemed trivial in his eyes. He stood at the top, the fortune he had long desired within reach, but he felt more lost than ever.

He went to the great hall where the new titles and documents were placed before him, signed, sealed, official. The land of his ancestors, the wealth, it was all there, in his hands. But when his gaze dulled on the paper, there was only one thought that occupied his mind: Y/N.

His gaze turned toward the annex. The place that had been his refuge, and hers, away from the tumult of the world. There, amidst the riches and conquests of his inheritance, he knew he would only find peace when he returned to her, to the one person who had made him doubt everything he had believed.

A storm wind blew within him. He had lost everything for his revenge… except her.

He hurried back to the annex, his heart pounding. When his eyes finally landed on her, lying there in her bed, pale but calm, he felt as though his entire previous life had been nothing but a blurry dream, a nightmare in which he had lost himself. He had won, he had regained what was rightfully his, but the emptiness he felt had nothing to do with the revenge completed.

He sat by Y/N’s side, observing her for a long time, as though it was the first time he had truly seen her. She didn’t understand what was happening, nor what he had accomplished. But he knew that he had sacrificed everything for this revenge. And yet, this victory meant nothing without her.

He leaned over her, gently brushing her hair, and whispered, "I can’t abandon you."

He knew that his actions would make people talk. His former allies, his family members, would all oppose him, oppose this decision. He risked finding himself alone, without support, without allies, but he didn’t care. Titles, wealth, none of that mattered anymore. What he desired now was his place by her side, her protection, and her love.

A great upheaval was taking place in the domain, rumors spreading at lightning speed. The former servants of Y/N’s family, those who had been left behind, destabilized by the fall of their house, began to regroup to contest the new division of assets. Family members, furious and disgusted by Cassius’s rise to power, no longer kept their distance. The old world was collapsing, and a new one was rising, with Cassius and Y/N at the center of it all.

Messengers came, letters arrived. But all of this seemed so distant, so insignificant compared to what truly mattered. The outside world could get lost in its power struggles. He no longer had a reason to care about that. Y/N’s eyes, those eyes that could no longer see but seemed to see beyond appearances, were now all that mattered.

"I’m going to keep you close to me, no matter what happens," he said, his voice trembling, but firm.

And so, Cassius made his decision, with no turning back possible. He stood up in the room, the official documents of his inheritance in hand, and turned one last time toward the door. The outside world awaited him. But for the first time, he knew exactly where he had to go. Where Y/N was.

He turned away from the imposing estate, from the wealth that was now his, and went to find the one he had learned to love despite himself. It didn’t matter that the rumors, conflicts, and the empire’s stakes fought to take his place. He had found his one true treasure.

Y/N. And he was going to protect her, at all costs.

---

The path to the annex had never seemed so long to Cassius. Every step felt like it was bringing him closer to his judgment, to that moment he had feared since leaving Y/N to complete his revenge. His victory was bitter, and the fear of facing the consequences of his choices weighed heavily on his heart. He didn’t know what he would say or how she would react. All he knew was that he could no longer stay away from her.

When he crossed the threshold of the annex, silence greeted him. The house seemed frozen in time, as if his absence had halted the world. He climbed the stairs leading to Y/N’s room, his trembling hand resting on the railing. He hesitated in front of the door, taking a deep breath before entering. He found her there, sitting on the bed, her face turned toward the open window, as if she could feel the wind to compensate for her lack of sight.

Y/N didn’t need to see him to know he was there. As soon as she had heard the sound of his footsteps in the house, her heart had tightened. A quiet rage filled her, mixed with a sadness she didn’t know how to express. When he finally entered the room, she didn’t give him the chance to speak. She grabbed an object from her table—a metal box—and threw it with all her might in his direction. The impact was brutal, hitting him squarely in the head. Cassius staggered, but didn’t retreat.

Silence fell again in the room, heavy and suffocating. Cassius, his lips pressed together, raised a hand to his temple where a thin line of blood began to trickle. He didn’t move, standing there, just a few steps away from the woman he had betrayed.

"Why are you here?" she asked, her voice trembling but calm. It wasn’t the cry of an angry woman, but the painful question of someone who had been hurt to the core.

"Y/N..." he whispered, but she raised a hand to stop him.

"Don’t say anything. I don’t want to hear your excuses or explanations. I don’t want you near me, nor do I want you to try to touch me." Her voice was cold, but Cassius could hear the crack in every word, the mixture of emotions she was holding in with a force he could barely comprehend.

He took a step forward, but she instinctively pulled away, moving further from him. The tears she had tried to hold back finally welled up at the corners of her eyes. She turned her head toward him, her hands trembling slightly as she gripped the bed sheets.

"Do you know what I thought of you?" she said, her voice almost broken but strangely composed. "I thought you would be different. That you would be the person I’ve waited for my whole life. The one who would come into my cold, empty world and show me I was wrong. That the world wasn’t just filled with cruelty and lies. But all you’ve done is confirm what I already knew. I was wrong to trust you."

Cassius felt his heart shatter at her words. She was there, vulnerable, yet so strong in her pain. He would have preferred for her to hit him, to scream, to unleash her anger on him. But this calm resignation, these words full of disappointment, were a thousand times worse.

"Y/N, I..." He stopped, searching for the right words. But there were none. Nothing could erase what he had done, nothing could repair this betrayal.

She turned away, her shoulders shaking slightly as she tried to hold back her sobs. "I’ve never expected anything from anyone. Since I was a child, I learned that people are only there to take. And you, you were no different. You came here, and you took what you liked. You took my trust, you took my safety, and now, what do you want? For me to forgive you? For me to let you break me again?"

He took a step closer, despite her silent command, kneeling in front of her. "I’m sorry, Y/N," he murmured, his voice full of sincerity. "I’m sorry for everything. For using you, for leaving you in the dark. But believe me, I never wanted to hurt you. What I did… it was for my family, to right a wrong. But I didn’t know it would cost me you. That it would cost me your heart."

She didn’t respond, but her hands tightened even more around the sheets.

"I can’t change what I’ve done," he continued. "But I can choose what I do now. And all I want is to be by your side. No matter what it costs, no matter how long it takes. I love you, Y/N. And I won’t leave anymore."

A heavy silence followed his words. Y/N didn’t move, her tears continuing to fall silently. Cassius stayed there, kneeling, waiting for her to speak, for her to hit him, for her to reject him. But nothing came.

"You can stay," she murmured finally, her voice barely audible. "But don’t think I’m going to forgive you so easily."

Cassius nodded, grateful for that small chance. He knew that regaining her trust would take time, perhaps an eternity. But he was willing to do whatever it took for her. To fix what he had broken.

And in that fragile moment, a small spark of hope was born, lighting up a future they still had to build, step by step.

---

After their emotional confrontation, Cassius decided it was time to offer Y/N an environment more suited to her needs. He brought her back to the main estate, a vast manor surrounded by lush gardens, where she could benefit from all the comfort, care, and attention she deserved.

Aware that the current staff might be connected to past allegiances and eager to create a fresh start for the two of them, Cassius made the radical decision to dismiss all the employees of the estate. He then recruited a new team, carefully chosen for their discretion and dedication, to ensure impeccable service for Y/N.

The days that followed were marked by Cassius's constant efforts to seek forgiveness. Despite his new responsibilities as the master of the estate and manager of the family’s assets, he dedicated every free moment to Y/N. He accompanied her on walks through the gardens, describing in detail the colors of the flowers and the layout of the paths to make up for her blindness. He read books aloud to her, choosing stories that could move or make her smile. In the evenings, they shared intimate meals, where he made sure every dish was prepared according to her tastes.

Gradually, a new closeness developed between them. Y/N, initially reluctant, began to open up to him. Their conversations grew deeper, covering a range of topics from childhood memories to unspoken dreams. Affectionate gestures naturally emerged: a hand placed on hers during a reading, a shared laugh after a funny anecdote, a smile exchanged without the need for words.

One afternoon, while they sat on the terrace, enjoying the gentle breeze, Y/N turned her face toward Cassius. Her expression was serious, marked by a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

"Cassius," she began softly, "there's something I need to know. What happened to my family?"

The silence that followed her question was heavy with meaning. Cassius felt his heart tighten, aware that the truth could break the fragile trust they had rebuilt. But he also knew that lying or omitting the truth were no longer options.

He took a deep breath, searching for the right words. "Y/N, your family... was stripped of their titles and their assets. They had to leave the region and now live under modest conditions."

Y/N remained silent for a moment, processing the information. When she finally spoke, her voice was calm, but tinged with sadness. "And it was you who orchestrated this, wasn’t it?"

Cassius lowered his head, ashamed. "Yes. It was my revenge for what they did to my family. But I never expected to meet you, nor to... fall in love with you."

She slowly nodded, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. "I understand. But that doesn’t make it any less painful."

He moved closer to her, gently taking her hand in his. "I’m willing to do anything to make up for my mistakes, Y/N. Tell me what I can do."

She squeezed his hand in return, a simple gesture but one full of meaning. "For now, let’s stay together. We’ll see what the future holds."

And so, despite the shadows of the past, they chose to walk forward together toward an uncertain future, but one full of hope.

---

The manor was silent, barely disturbed by the soft murmur of the wind against the windows. In their bedroom, the morning light filtered through the slightly open curtains, creating soft and warm shadows on the bed where Cassius and Y/N rested after a peaceful night. Their hands were intertwined, their connection stronger than ever.

It had been months since they married. A life together in this grand estate that had been the stage for so many changes, struggles, and, ultimately, an unexpected love. Y/N, once a quiet and solitary young woman, had found her place not only as a wife but also as a countess, the mistress of the house, a position she had never sought but held with dignity and intelligence.

Cassius was amazed every day at the way she managed the estate’s affairs, the way she helped him make strategic decisions. She had a sharpness that still surprised him. The woman he had loved had become a valuable ally, a strong partner full of wisdom. She never ceased to amaze him.

"Countess," he would say sometimes with a mischievous smile, "I suppose I should start addressing you like a servant now, shouldn’t I?" He loved seeing her face turn red, the charm of her embarrassment and humility still pure, even after everything they had been through together.

She would often respond with a half-smile, a bit shy but amused by his teasing. "You know very well I don’t care for the title. But I suppose I’ve earned being treated like a queen, haven’t I?"

"Ah, you’re making me work for it now," he teased with a smile, but always with a quiet admiration in his eyes. "But it suits you. The most beautiful countess in all the empire."

She would then give him a playful look before gently pushing him away, not without a small laugh. "I forbid you from making me blush any more."

One morning, however, as they found themselves alone in the bedroom, a different kind of silence settled in. Y/N, who was lying next to him, gently caressed his face as she often did. Her fingers glided over every contour, every line, as if trying to imprint every detail in her memory. She seemed lost in thought. Cassius watched her, a little lost in the stillness of the moment. Then, a question arose in his mind, a thought that had been gnawing at him for too long.

He bit his lip after asking the question, as if the idea that she might judge him differently terrified him. He had never thought of himself as an attractive man, despite his imposing size and rugged nature. He wasn’t someone people would admire for his looks, let alone someone a woman might desire for his outer beauty. He was simply... him.

"Y/N," he said, his voice a little lower, "if you could see me… would you still love me?"

He waited for her answer, his heart beating faster, but Y/N didn’t respond immediately. She stopped her caresses, taking a pause, and her gaze drifted into the distance for a moment. Then, slowly, she moved her arms around him, gently pulling him closer. She buried her face in his hair and held him tightly. Her arms wrapped around him with tenderness, like a silent promise.

"Don’t you think it’s strange, Cassius?" she whispered, her voice soft and comforting. "To only see the outside of people… when everything happens inside?"

Her words struck him like a lightning bolt, hitting his soul full force. A long silence settled, the air thick with deep emotion. Cassius closed his eyes, his heart heavy, as silent tears began to fall. It was the first time he felt such an emotional weight. He had never allowed himself to believe he deserved the love of a woman, let alone someone as pure and precious as Y/N. But there, in her arms, everything made sense. She didn’t love him for what he looked like on the outside, but for who he was on the inside. She saw beyond appearances, beyond the mistakes of the past. She saw his heart. And that was enough.

"I…" He couldn’t find the words. He simply let himself be carried away by Y/N’s embrace, drowning in the warmth of her arms, finally feeling at peace.

Y/N smiled as she heard him cry, but it was a gentle, protective smile. She leaned slightly and whispered in his ear, "You are my everything, Cassius. And that will never change, no matter what you see in the mirror."

Then, after a moment of silence, she added, teasing as if to lighten the atmosphere, "By the way, you look like a big baby in my arms, you know Cassi ?"

Cassius burst into laughter, breaking the weight of his emotions, and pulled away slightly from Y/N’s embrace to look at her. His eyes were still brimming with tears, but his smile was sincere and full of gratitude.

"I’m your big Cassi baby, huh?" he said with a soft laugh. "Well, I’d rather be that than your big problem."

"You’re that too, but I love you anyway," she replied with a laugh, teasing him while pulling him back into her arms.

In that suspended moment, where love and humor intertwined, Cassius knew deep down that everything he had been through, everything he had sacrificed, had been worth it. Because, in the end, the love he had searched for so desperately, the one he never believed was possible, was there, so close, in her arms, in Y/N’s smile.

And he knew, with a new certainty, that he no longer needed to look in a mirror to see who he was. Y/N saw him. And that was enough.

The End

..................................................................................

Bonus :

Years had passed, and the manor now echoed with a quiet happiness. Y/N and Cassius had built a peaceful life together, despite the weight of the past and the persistent whispers that ran through the empire. Now a respected countess and a beloved wife, Y/N had found her place, but a new trial had befallen her.

She was pregnant.

The news had been received with joy by her husband, but for Y/N, it carried an invisible weight on her shoulders. People talked. Superstitions spread through the streets, the salons, even the corridors of the estate. They whispered that she could only give birth to a child like her—one destined for darkness from their very first breath.

Y/N said nothing, but Cassius could see the turmoil in her delicate features, the exhaustion that had nothing to do with the pregnancy itself. Every caress on her belly was laced with a silent fear, a doubt that never truly left her.

— “Y/N… no matter what others say, our child will be loved, protected. They will never have to endure what you have.”

She didn’t answer, merely clutching the fabric of his tunic as if afraid to say something she would regret.

The hours were long, unbearable. Cassius had never felt so powerless. Y/N suffered, gasped, struggled. He stayed by her side, gripping her hand with a force that revealed his own anxiety. The midwives worked tirelessly around her, and finally, after hours of effort, a first cry rang out.

Their child was born.

A flood of emotions overwhelmed Cassius as he looked at the fragile little being in Y/N’s arms. His heart swelled with a love he had never thought possible. He pressed a kiss to his wife’s sweat-dampened forehead, whispering words of comfort.

But Y/N remained silent. Her face was pale, frozen in a troubling expression. Cassius first thought it was exhaustion, the toll of labor. But something was wrong.

At last, her voice broke the silence.

— “Cassius…”

He gently lifted his head, his fingers running tenderly through her damp hair.

— “Yes, my love?”

Y/N trembled slightly. Her hand tightened around the fabric of the blanket, and when she spoke again, her voice was hesitant, laced with deep fear.

— “Tell me… what does he look like?”

Cassius smiled softly, thinking he understood. He lowered his gaze to their child, ready to describe the features of the little life they had created.

— “He’s beautiful. He has your lips… and I think he has your nose too.”

But Y/N shook her head, interrupting his quiet admiration. Her hand clenched the sheets a little tighter.

— “No… I want to know…” She took a trembling breath. “Is he… normal?”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Cassius felt a shiver run down his spine. For a moment, he struggled to understand what she meant. Then, everything became clear.

She wasn’t asking if he was handsome. Nor if he had her features.

She wanted to know if he was blind.

Suddenly, a quiet anger stirred within Cassius. Not at her, but at the world that had left such deep scars on his wife—scars that made her believe that being different meant being a mistake.

With infinite gentleness, he placed the baby in Y/N’s arms. She trembled slightly, as if afraid to hear his answer. He then knelt beside her, cupping her face in his hands, his heart pounding.

— “Listen to me, Y/N.” His voice was soft but firm, a blend of tenderness and conviction. “Our child was born with your blood, with your legacy. Whether they can see or not, they are perfect. They are ours. They are loved.”

Y/N’s lips trembled. She still didn’t dare to touch her baby’s face, as if fearing she would discover a fate already sealed.

Cassius gently took her hand and guided it to the round little cheek of their child.

— “Do you feel that? Their breath, their warmth. It’s not what others see that matters—it’s what we feel.”

Slowly, Y/N nodded, silent tears rolling down her cheeks.

— “They will be loved…” she finally murmured, as if making a promise to herself.

Cassius pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, then to their child’s.

— “More than anyone in this world.”

And in that room, illuminated by the flickering glow of candlelight, a new chapter began for them. A chapter where love triumphed over all beliefs. A chapter where Y/N, after years of doubting herself, finally learned that she had never been a burden or a mistake.

She was a miracle. And so was their child.

---

The days that followed were filled with a gentleness that Y/N had never known. Cassius watched over her and their child with almost exaggerated attentiveness. He worried about everything��whether she was eating enough, whether she was sleeping well, whether the baby was comfortable.

— "I’m fine, Cassius," she sighed one morning as he insisted on placing an extra pillow behind her head.

— "You say that, but you don’t realize how much exhaustion you’re accumulating."

Y/N smiled and reached out, a familiar gesture between them. Her fingers glided gently over his jawline, his nose, his lips.

— "You’re making that face where your brows are furrowed, aren’t you?"

Cassius sighed before pressing a kiss to her palm.

— "I’m just worried. You just gave birth, and…"

— "And you’ve become worse than an old nursemaid," she teased softly.

He pretended to be offended, but his smile betrayed him.

The whispers had not stopped. The rumor spread that the Countess’s child had been born blind. Nobles gossiped—some saw it as a curse, others offered false sympathy.

But Cassius let no one approach Y/N or their son with ill intentions.

One morning, as Y/N cradled their child, Cassius approached them.

— "He looks more and more like you," he said softly.

— "I wouldn’t know," she replied with a hint of amusement.

— "Then let me be your eyes."

Gently, he took her hand and placed it on the baby’s head.

— "His hair is fine, as dark as the night." He then guided her fingers over the baby’s soft, round cheek. "His skin is warm, delicate. And his lips…" He brushed them lightly with his fingers. "They’re like yours—full and gentle."

Y/N remained silent, savoring his words, her heart beating in time with the peaceful breathing of their child.

Then, as if by miracle, something unexpected happened.

The baby opened his eyes.

Cassius, who had never doubted his love for their child, froze for a moment. He had feared that Y/N would suffer if their child was like her, that she would feel an unjust sorrow.

But in that instant, all of it disappeared.

— "Y/N…" he murmured, his voice trembling.

She sensed his unease immediately.

— "What is it?" she asked.

— "His eyes." He swallowed hard. "They’re open."

Y/N’s own eyes widened slightly, though they saw nothing.

— "He… He can see?"

Cassius didn’t answer right away. He gazed at their son, at the bright, wide eyes staring back at them. The baby blinked a few times, curious, innocent. Then, he reached out his tiny fingers toward Y/N, seeking his mother’s touch.

A tear slipped down Cassius’s cheek.

— "Yes, Y/N… He can see."

A silence settled between them. Then, Y/N slowly nodded, her lips trembling slightly.

— "That’s good," she whispered.

Cassius had expected a stronger reaction—perhaps tears, a sob. But Y/N remained calm, her smile soft and serene.

— "You’re not… sad?" he dared to ask.

She shook her head.

— "No. Because it was never about normality. Just fear. Fear that he would go through what I have. But he never will. Because he has you. Because he has me."

Cassius took a deep breath, pulling his wife and son into his embrace.

— "He will always have us," he promised.

The years passed, and Cassius and Y/N’s son grew up surrounded by love. He was neither cursed nor a tragic legend, as the whispers of the past had claimed. He was simply a beloved child, a strong heir, carrying within his blood the story of a woman who had overcome darkness and a man who had learned that vengeance did not always bring peace—but love, it could.

Cassius never forgot the promise he had made to himself: Y/N would be happy.

And every day, he made sure of it.

---

The afternoon stretched lazily in Cassius’s study, bathed in golden light filtering through the large windows. Seated behind his desk, he held their six-month-old daughter, Evangeline, in his arms. She babbled softly, her tiny hands grasping at the buttons of his shirt.

Across the room, Y/N sat comfortably on a couch, gently caressing the face of their eldest son, Ambrose, as she listened to his enthusiastic murmurs about his latest "project." She had always had this tender habit—tracing the faces of those she loved to sense their expressions and guess their thoughts.

Cassius, who had been watching them for a while, finally sighed and said, half amused, half perplexed:

— "My dear… I think our son is strange."

Y/N raised an eyebrow in her husband’s direction before turning her head toward Ambrose.

— "Strange?"

Cassius nodded slowly while adjusting Evangeline against him.

— "He spends his time doing odd things. Just look at him. Or rather, listen to him."

Y/N listened carefully. Ambrose, only five years old, was kneeling on the rug, entirely focused on some mysterious activity. In front of him, feathers, books, and even a few gold coins were meticulously arranged in neat rows. He was whispering numbers as he counted, then stopped to adjust everything with an almost eerie precision.

Y/N reached out and gently ran her fingers over the top of his head.

— "Ambrose, what are you doing, my love?"

The child lifted his head seriously.

— "I’m putting everything in order, Mama. It’s important."

Cassius softly patted their sleeping daughter’s back before adding:

— "See? Yesterday, I caught him sorting my imperial seals by shades of red. And this morning, he refused to sit at the table because the chairs weren’t perfectly aligned."

Amused, Y/N stroked her son’s cheek.

— "He just likes things to be well organized."

— "No, no. It’s an obsession. The other day, I walked into his room and found him arranging pebbles… by size."

Ambrose frowned, crossing his small arms over his chest.

— "That’s logical. Big pebbles go with big ones, small ones with small ones. Why would you mix them?"

Y/N stifled a laugh while Cassius shook his head in exasperation.

— "You see? This isn’t normal. He has the mind of an old accountant before he’s even lost his first tooth."

Y/N placed a reassuring hand over her husband’s.

— "Maybe this is just his way of understanding the world. He inherited your attention to detail—you should be proud."

Cassius watched his son, who, after a brief hesitation, returned to aligning his objects with unwavering seriousness.

— "If he ever starts organizing my soldiers by height, that’s when I’ll sound the alarm."

Y/N burst into laughter, and after a moment, Ambrose smiled too.

Cassius let out one last sigh, kissed Evangeline’s head tenderly, then reached out to ruffle his son’s hair.

— "Alright, little genius. Keep aligning the world as you see fit… But I warn you, I refuse to have my county turned into a geometric arrangement someday."

Ambrose beamed proudly, and Y/N, her heart full of love for her family, intertwined her fingers with her husband’s.

Everything was exactly where it belonged.

Tags list : @elizalabs3 @slvt4her

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mxtxfanatic · 1 day ago

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Everyone keeps on saying that Lan Xichen may be an ignorant fool, but at least he is a good brother to Lan Wangji and a good friend to Jin Guangyao and Nie Mingjue, but is that really true?

Lan Xichen allowed the Lan Clan to participate in the First Siege of the Burial Mounds, after he knew of Lan Wangji’s feelings for Wei Wuxian. He even told Jin Guangyao of Lan Wangji’s feelings for Wei Wuxian, which Jin Guangyao later on used against Lan Wangji in Guanyin Temple.

And when Nie Mingjue told Lan Xichen about how he was stabbed by Jin Guangyao, he just ignored his warnings. Jin Guangyao doesn't even like Nie Mingjue either at that point, not to mention Nie Mingjue also wanted to kill Jin Guangyao several times too. And yet Lan Xichen still wanted the two of them to get along, knowing what had happened in between them.

What do you think about this?

Unfortunately, Lan Xichen has a type of smug, overconfident ignorance I like to call “mother knows best” syndrome: he thinks that he is the most rational person in a group of people who all seem (to him) to be operating at extremes, so it is up to him to play moderator and peacemaker as the “least biased” person. On top of that, because he thinks of himself as the “most rational” person, he also easily justifies disregarding the opinions or knowledge of others as “uninformed” if it doesn’t fit into his own view of things. And tbf, no one had ever challenged him on it in the story until Wei Wuxian’s resurrection. @jiangwanyinscatmom actually had a really good meta about how the story of the Twin Jades’ parents actually affect Lan Xichen’s ideas around reliability/rationality in regards to romances vs. friendships, but I’ve never approached it from that angle to be able to explain it as eloquently as they have.

What I will say is that as bad as those above character flaws are—and we see how badly they implode on him by the end of the novel—what makes it sad is that unlike other characters, Lan Xichen is actually trying to do right by his friends and family. He saw how close Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao were prior to Jin Guangyao’s betrayal and wanted them to regain that closeness. He saw how much Lan Wangji appeared to change around Wei Wuxian and encouraged that relationship until it seemed like Wei Wuxian was actually harming his brother, instead. In another setting, Lan Xichen’s ego could have just been addressed through actual conversation, but instead he got stuck with Jin Guangyao early on—who was the #1 driver of every bad thing that ever happened to Lan Xichen—and his refusal to accept anyone else’s input that differed from his own led to the deaths of real people. And now he has to live with that, but the good thing is that he does.

#mdzs asks #anon #lxc fucked up very badly #but he actually lives with the mistakes he made #and reflects on what happened #instead of trying to justify what he did as righteous #it’s also why i say that jgy made lxc less than what he could be #had meng yao never appeared in lxc’s life #a lot of things could’ve been addressed and settled before it reached the fever pitch that it did #but master manipulator jgy saw the flaws in lxc’s character #and exploited them to lxc’s detriment

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overclockedopossum · 1 day ago

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Jesus christ.

I feel like it's worth pointing out - it's not unusual in the UK to have only a joint bank account. I know that's how my parents operated for a long time, having only joint accounts.

For her to say she drained their joint account... it's very plausible that was all or most of the money he had access to. Her saying she wanted to be sure it "couldn't be used against her" supports that being the case, since the expectation is evidently that doing so substantially limits his financial agency, perhaps making it so he can't afford a lawer for example.

This is a fucking horror story where a man who's grappling with his sexuality, albeit in a pretty unhealthy way, has his wife make him homeless, cut off his finances, chase him out of his shelter as well by exposing him to his family. Honestly I don't think it'd be that unfair to say she's trying to kill him. How the fuck do you marry someone then pivot to not even caring if they have somewhere to sleep at night.

Oh come on lady, you can't deny a man his gaycation

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poisonf0rest · 1 day ago

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genuine question because youre one of my favorite writers, you seem to really have a thorough grasp of the characters: what do you see in rafayel that makes him appealing? i try to get past his entitled brattiness because i really want to enjoy all of the guys, but i cant see anything else. please help me understand 🥲

Oh boy, baby, darling, sweetheart, you opened a can of worms. Come do a little bit of character analysis with me~

About Rafayel:

Rafayel is a brat, yes. But that means he wears his heart on his sleeve, outright when he needs your attention or sulking when something is bothering him or faking a dramatic accident to get your attention. There's no silent guessing or fake "I'm fine's," just his overdramatic, raw emotion that's easy to read. He's has anxious attachment stemming from hundreds of years of betrayal and loss.

Rafayel is a romantic, a yearner. And yes, while I also agree his attitude was annoying at first I am very unfortunately into people who get on my nerves, especially when they are flirty and funny as well. I folded during his hospital scene.

Entitled? He is a god. He has been trying and failing to save his entire civilization for over 800 years and still simply can't because he refuses to hurt the one he loves. While all the boys have been through pain there's something about Rafayel's story that really gets me. I think it’s because if I— as mc— knew the sacrifice he was making, I would give myself up. So to have someone selfish enough to place me first is heartbreaking, devoted, and cruel.

Also there are plenty of scenes where Rafayel is serious, especially if you read between the lines. The brattiness and sass is a playful cover to someone who's been through pain and understands it. Someone who chooses to still see joy and happiness in his life while fully understanding how cruel the world is.

Simply, I'm a sucker for doomed character archetypes. There is no version of Rafayel's and mc's story where they both end happy. Millions of people will die or if mc kills herself Rafayel will live forever as a husk of his former self. Using a sassy, filirty, bratty attitude to cover up such a genuinely depressing story is so juicy to me.

About Me:

I'm a Zayne irl. Work is honestly the most important thing to me outside my family, I'm devoted to my hobbies and leadership positions, and I have a close circle of friends I would do anything for. I'm also fucking hilarious subjective.

I'm the eldest sibling, the guard dog, the de-facto leader for almost everything. I'm the person who had to grow up fast, to parent my immigrant parents at times, who never made space for love, and who is by default independant and comfortable with it.

I prefer to listen-- I love my yapper friends. Don't get me wrong I can talk for hours about anything, but day to day I tend to get exhausted talking after a while so I surround myself with people who can do the easy talking for me.

My irl partner is a mix between Rafayel and Sylus I'd say. He's the one who pulls me out of my work spirals by nagging me until I give in, someone I'm comfortable yapping about my current hyperfixations too, someone who my inner child can come out to. But I also enjoy being a caregiver, that's always been my role and I relish in it, I like being relied upon as much as I appreciate having someone in my life that lets me take a step back. The only part that's Sylus is how his love language is bullying me and his vibe/looks lmao, but usually I am more into raf-stereotypical pretty boys.

So, overall, the appeal of Rafayel to those that choose him:

Rafayel is for the eldest daughters who needs their inner child to be free, who needs a little bit of ridiculousness and impulsiveness in their lives.

Rafayel is for those who never got praised for their effort or strength, for those who success was the only option, who had to be perfect, reliable and serious all the time. He makes it so clear how much simply being with you means to him, constantly complimenting, flirting, and reassuring you just how much he needs you. Showing you how obsessed with you he is.

Rafayel is for those who didn't think love had a place in their lives due to shit family or life circumstances. He proves time and time again that you're the only one he loves. Even though he's lived forever, you were worth the wait and that he would wait again for you, no matter how long it takes. He proves you can be loved, and that it comes easy.

Rafayel is for those who always placed others first. He's more than willing to show you again and again you will always be first in his mind. He needs you more than he does water. Sure, you can take care of him, but he wants to be with you and take care of you, too.

Rafayel is for those who need someone else to drag them out of work/school/spiralling even when they don't want to admit it, bringing in laughter, color, and a little bit of dramatics.

Rafayel is for creators who dedicate themselves to their craft, who are scared of losing this "spark," who want to get better but constantly feel that what they create isn't enough or must be more.

Rafayel is for hopeless romantics, those that go out of their way to surprise their friends during their birthdays, those who plan platonic dates for those they care about, those who put out so much love into the world and suddenly break when they get that love back.

Rafayel is for those used to having little siblings or those to take care of in our lives. Only while Rafayel relishes in the attention, he's also ready to give it back five-fold.

Rafayel is a switch for switch (brat for brat) lmao. He's for those who like to start on top, teasing and pushing his buttons to get all those cute reactions out of him, just until he breaks. Then he can take control and finish us up. We love vocal men.

Maybe projecting, but Rafayel is the perfect bi-girl's boyfriend. He's a classic pretty boy, unafraid to be in touch with his feminine side, a little dramatic, a little artsy. But he's also super romantic, sensitive, loving, and intense. And gosh, who could say no to those big puppy eyes?

I could probably continue to talk about Rafayel for hours, but ya, hopefully this helps answer why I and others love this man. Just continue on with the main story and read between the lines with his dialogue and I'm sure you'll pick up on it too~

#ask ��𝖔𝖎𝖘𝖔𝖓 #poison's raf obsession #lads rafayel #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace

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nothoughtsjustfic · 2 days ago

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Thinking about: Nanny K.MG

💭Who: Kim Mingyu (Seventeen) x female reader 💭What: Friends to lovers. Fluff. Suggestive (18+). Live in nanny Mingyu. Single parent reader. 💭Word count: 2.4k 💭Warnings: Reader chose to be a single mother and medically conceived. Reader is Mingyu’s boss so I guess you could say power imbalance but it’s also very much not - that’ll make sense when you read. Alcohol consumption - they don’t get drunk. Suggestive scenes at the end. 💭Summary: “You expect to go home and hear about your son’s day from his nanny as the little boy sleeps soundly upstairs, just like normal. You certainly don’t expect to wind up in Mingyu’s bed with a dramatic change to your dynamic, but you really aren’t going to complain about that.”

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

Masterlist

A/N- This is in the same universe as Thinking about: Nursery teacher L.JH, and the Juni mentioned in this is the same Juni as in that story! In February, I will be releasing a prequel to the Jihoon story, which will have our dear nanny Gyu and little Danil as characters! I’m very excited and hope you will enjoy that one too when it’s available!

Getting home late isn’t unusual for you; with your company in the process of expanding you haven’t had a lot of option but to stay late almost every single day for the past handful of weeks, unfortunately.

Which means that by the time you’re home, your darling son is already tucked up deep asleep in bed, looking so cosy and cute that you want nothing more than to crawl up next to him, pull him into your loving embrace and fall asleep. But you can’t, you don’t want to risk waking him when you know he always fights sleep so much in hopes of seeing you.

Of course, you feel like a terrible mother these days due to rarely seeing Danil during weekdays, what with you having to leave for work while he’s still getting ready for school and returning hours after his nanny has managed to soothe him to sleep. You hope that within the next few weeks, you can return to normal times to join the two for dinner and take over from Mingyu afterwards, allowing him to clock off and do whatever he wants for the rest of the night.

Not that you think the giant hearted nanny would do anything out of the usual even given the rest of the night off. At this point, you think Mingyu would spend his days off with Danil every weekend all the same if not for his friends dragging him off to make sure he remembers that he is a real person outside of his job.

You’ve tried to shoo Mingyu away yourself many weekends and convince him to call up his friends or go on a date, just something other than always being around to dote on your family of two. Yet the tall man always looks at you with round eyes shining sadly and without even needing to say a word, he bends your arm, and you give in, invite him to whatever activity you’ve planned for you and your son. Though at this point, you always make sure to factor in Mingyu when planning, knowing that he’ll likely puppy eyes his way right back to your son’s side.

And honestly, you wouldn’t want it any other way.

Seeing Mingyu with your son always settles you in a way you’ve never experienced. You’ve never seen Danil with a male figure in his life other than Mingyu. There’s never been a father around because you decided to do this solo, and you haven’t once regretted that decision to be a single mother from the moment of planned conception.

But there’s something special about seeing Danil hang off of Mingyu’s every word, or the gentle way Mingyu helps the boy with his homework and teaches Danil how to be a good human, and it makes you feel like maybe there is one person who you wouldn’t mind being the father of your child, and perhaps even more in the future.

Yet Mingyu is someone you’ve been paying to live in your house and look after your son since Danil could walk. In fact, you had been paying Mingyu before then as a babysitter, not a live in nanny, and the man had been there for Danil’s first steps and had looked as proud and emotional as you felt seeing your little boy unsteadily put one foot in front of the other without assistance of either of your hands.

As much as you wish you could pluck up the courage and ask Mingyu on a date, at the very least, you’re his boss and you can’t risk it. If things went wrong, Mingyu might leave and that wouldn’t just break your heart but Danil’s too. So, for the sake of your son, you keep your feelings to yourself.

“Hey,” Mingyu’s soft whisper makes you jolt slightly where you’re leaning against the doorframe of Danil’s bedroom to watch your son sleep.

You should’ve known that Mingyu would appear, he always does when you get home, but only after you’ve had the chance to peer in on your son and whisper your love into the air in hopes that it will reach Danil’s subconscious and bless him with nothing but sweet dreams. Tonight though, you had been too deep in your own mind with thoughts of the tall man to hear him near.

“Hi,” you reply just as quietly as you peer over at him.

“Come on, I’ve got exciting news, and a bottle of your favourite open,” he tempts you, not just with his cheekily grinned words but the outstretched arm and fingers wiggling invitingly at you.

There’s no hesitation, no thought as you put your hand in his and let him lead you downstairs and to the living room where, as promised, there’s a bottle of your favourite wine open on the coffee table and two glasses with the drink already poured within.

You both settle in the dimly lit room, only the sounds of whatever movie Mingyu had left running playing lowly in the background. He doesn’t even look at it, instead turns on the sofa so that he’s got one leg tucked under him and his shoulder against the backrest so that he can look at you as you gratefully swallow down your first mouthful of wine.

“Tough day?” He comments, smiling amusedly as you consume the contents of your glass before he’s even taken his first sip.

“No more than usual, just wish I could be home with you two more,” you reply forlornly as you watch Mingyu top up your glass.

“Two?” He repeats quietly and carefully puts the bottle down on the table.

“Mm. You and Danil.”

“But I’m just-”

“Mingyu, if you say you’re just his nanny, you’re not allowed to spend this weekend with us.”

Immediately, Mingyu looks at you with his sad puppy eyes and slightly protruded bottom lip. “But that’s my favourite part of the week, spending time with you two doing fun stuff.”

“Mine too, but you don’t get paid on weekends, Mingyu, which means you’re not his nanny during those trips.”

“Then why do you let me stay if you don’t think of me as the nanny?” He frowns confusedly. “If you don’t want me there to help and do everything I usually do, why do you let me stay and include me?”

“Because you’re one of us,” you answer honestly. “Our family.”

“What?” His expression melts as somehow, his eyes turn even bigger. “You consider me family?”

“What else would I consider you? You’ve been around since Dan was a baby; you’ve done probably more child care than I have at this point, even when you don’t have to. We love having you here and although I feel bad when you choose to spend weekends with us instead of joining your friends or going to find yourself a girlfriend and start your own family, I’m glad you stay.”

“I don’t want another family,” he admits and puts his slightly trembling hand over yours where they both remain around your glass propped on your folded legs. You look down at his touch and remove one hand from the glass to allow him to hold it. “I only want this one.”

“Mingyu…” you swallow thickly as your heart races with what this could imply, if he is saying family in the way you wish for, or in a broader sense. Maybe he means he wants to be Uncle Mingyu, not the father of your son, which you would accept, of course you’d accept Mingyu wanting to be Uncle Mingyu, but hearing Danil calling him daddy in the same breath as you mama, that would be something wonderful, you think.

“I know I’m overstepping, I’m just the guy you pay to watch your son, and honestly I’d do that for free if this wasn’t my only source of income, but you see…the thing is that I…I’ve fallen in love with you both and I would really, like really love to be a family with you,” he confesses.

For a second longer, you stare unblinkingly at his hand before you register that you haven’t just fantasised his words like you have many times before. Mingyu really did just confess to being in love with you and that he wants to be a family, which sounds like he wants to take on the exact role you’ve been yearning for him to for years now.

“J-just to clarify what you mean,” you say as you slowly look up at him and find his anxious gaze locked on you. “By family are you saying you want to be Uncle Mingyu or…daddy?”

“Uhm…the second one…if-if you would allow me to be.”

“I need to get a new nanny,” you mutter dumbly and watch as Mingyu’s features fall.

“Oh.” He looks away and turns, removing his hold from you as he swallows down the contents of his glass faster than he ever drinks any wine. “Right, I’ll uhm, pack my stuff and be gone by tomorrow evening so the new nanny can have my room.”

“Gyu,” you breathe out and shuffle closer to gently cup his farthest cheek and turn him to look at you. There are tears gathering on his lashes. “Oh, baby, I didn’t mean it like that,” you assure softly and brush your thumb across his cheek as a tear falls and drips down across his skin.

“N-no?” You shake your head and give a little, reassuring smile. “Then h-how?”

“I can’t really keep paying you to be Danil’s nanny when you’re his daddy.”

Mingyu’s breath catches in his throat and his eyes dart over your expression rapidly for a handful of seconds before settling back on your eyes. “You mean it?” He whispers.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

“For Danil to have a dad?”

“For you to be his dad.”

“Oh,” he breathes out. “I love you, I-I don’t know if you love me too or-or just want me to be his dad and I’ll accept that, whatever I need to so I can be that for him, but I just need you to kno-know. I love you and I have for…” he lets out a breath. “It feels like I’ve always loved you, even before I knew you. It’s just…”

“Natural,” you finish, and he nods in confirmation.

“Yeah, it feels natural to love you, like it’s all I was made for; to love you and Danil.”

“Do you have more love?”

“Huh?”

“Well…Danil has been asking to have a little brother; it might take us a few tries to get the right gender, but I don’t mind repeat attempts if it’s with you.”

The tears in Mingyu’s eyes return with a vengeance and start to spill over, trickling down to meet your thumb still smoothing over his cheek. “Y-you want to have babies with me?”

“I do.”

“And that?” You make a confused sound. “Will you say I do in another circumstance with me one day?”

“Are you asking if I’ll marry you one day?” You wonder in surprise. He just nods and then you surge in to kiss him, utterly overwhelmed with emotion and unable to even attempt to verbally answer right now.

Mingyu whimpers slightly at the sudden, passionate kiss but then he’s blindly taking your glass from your hand to place onto the coffee table with his own so that he can pull you onto his lap and wrap his arms around you, all without breaking the kiss.

You kiss for long enough that your lips are bruised and tingling, chests heaving as your lungs search for air by the time you break apart and look at one another with matching hooded eyes.

“I love you, so fucking much,” you inform when you have your breath back enough to speak, running your fingers through his hair to try and tame the mess you’ve already made of it. “I want it all with you, Mingyu; marriage, babies, everything.”

“Fuck,” he pulls you in to another intense kiss with one hand threaded into your hair at the back of your head and his other arm around your waist to pull you even closer and press you down against him where you can feel how aroused he is, and it only makes your body burn brighter. “I’ll be the best daddy, I promise.”

“To me or the kids?” You joke and watch as his eyes darken before his lips spread into a seductive smirk that makes you wish you’re already in your bedroom. Or maybe his; it’s further away from Danil’s, therefore, much more suited for your current urges.

“Tonight, yours,” he answers and leans in to nip at your bottom lip teasingly. “Sound good, baby? Wanna go upstairs and show daddy how much of a good girl you can be?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Later, you lay in Mingyu’s bed naked, where he excitedly tells you that Danil has been invited to his first ever birthday party this coming Sunday, a picnic for a little girl named Juni that you’re both invited to as well, and you’ll repeat your love into one another’s skin in between discussing where to go from here.

Mingyu can’t technically be Danil’s nanny anymore, even if you agree to not tell anyone about the change quite yet as you want to ease into it, so Mingyu will be more like a stay at home dad and although he has savings and you both don’t want you to give him an allowance because it’ll feel too much like paying him to look after his own son, you agree that for now, you’ll keep paying him until things are settled and he can look for a job if he wants to have his own income.

There’s a lot more that needs to be discussed too; how to tell Danil, when to tell Danil, if Mingyu will move into your bedroom so you’re both closer to your son or you’ll move into Mingyu’s so there’s less chance of Danil hearing your private, late night activities, or if you’ll just swap between for the best of both worlds, plus a whole list of practicalities and legalities about the change of status, but for now, you decide to just enjoy what’s fallen into your lap.

Mostly because it’s your new boyfriend’s mischievous grin before he presses your thighs apart to get his head in between them for the nth time, and there’s really not a chance in hell that you’ll ever stop the man from loving you in every way he sees fit when this seems to be his favourite method.

As soon as Mingyu is done and you’ve got your strength back, you’ll return the favour and show the man how grateful you are that he’s agreed to take up the title of Daddy, but for now, you lay back with your fingers in his hair and enjoy the ride.

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie, @tusswrites, @svtiddiess

Special tag: @ourdawnishotterthanourday

#wkcnet #svthub #kvanity #thediamondlifenetwork #keopihausnet #svt fic #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu fluff #kim mingyu fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfic

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romirola · 1 day ago

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Headcanons for the Shaw Pack's Relationships with Marie Greer

Inspired by a DM from @luminesceintbutterfly

David... sees Marie as the mother he never had. She steps in as a motherly figure in his life, even during moments when he resists it. From birth to adulthood, Marie is there for him through thick and thin. (Interested in seeing that relationship featured in a fic? Check out "In Name and Spirit.")

Angel... sees Marie as a wise beacon of both shifter information and life wisdom. Marie can see the positive change to David that Angel enacts, and she is forever grateful to this kind unempowered human. Angel will often consult Marie when it comes to navigating their alpha-mate duties. Marie is more than happy to lend an ear, hand, or shoulder.

Asher... sees Marie as a powerhouse. To him, Marie is as close as an aunt as someone can get. Marie is Áine's best friend (my headcanon of Asher's mother), lending any help she could to help the humanborn couple acclimate to life in a pack for the first time. Find out more about Asher's parents' story in Chapter 4 of Packed with Love . Growing up, Marie could always be trusted to heal Asher's many injuries and, scold him for putting himself at risk. Despite those lectures, Asher knows that Marie always has his back, and trusts her with his life.

Babe... sees Marie as a role model. Marie is so sure of herself, so focused, so capable and strong. She can do anything she sets her mind to, and inspires everyone around her to work as hard as she does. Babe always loves to hear Marie tell a story, finding their senses of humor to be very similar. Babe aspires to make Marie proud as they figure out how to serve the pack as beta-mate.

Milo... sees Marie as his mama. The woman who raised him. The woman who protects him. The woman who spent her whole life making sure he was cared for, loved, and set up for success, no matter how the odds were stacked. Milo knows just how lucky he is to have her in his life (even if she does drive him crazy sometimes), and he spends his life trying to be a man who makes his mama proud.

Sweetheart... sees Marie as a hero who raised their very favorite person. Marie embraces Sweetheart with all her heart, and Sweetheart is forever grateful. Their relationship is solid, strong, and loving. Marie is so ready to do anything for Sweetheart, because she truly wants her son's mate to be happy, healthy, and safe.

Darling... sees Marie as an ally. Marie is the first to call out an injustice or question a decision that might have negative consequences. She's logical, but empathic. She's fierce, but gentle. She's strong and weathered, but never lost that spark that makes her special. Darling admires Marie, and always cherishes their time together.

Sam... sees Marie as a trusted friend. The two bond over healing technique, long-gone pop culture, and common sense. Sam may not always enjoy the social aspect of being in a pack, but when he spots Marie an an event, he always makes it a point to connect with her.

Aggro... sees Marie as his grandma. She covers him with blankets when she visits (which is very often) and feeds him whenever he asks.

Gabe... saw Marie as family. He liked that Marie was never intimidated by his alpha-status, and that let the two develop a deep, meaningful friendship over the years.

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lostbookmark · 13 hours ago

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MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

Summary: After the death of your brother and his wife, you find yourself raising your nephew. How do you help a 13 year old heal? How do you help yourself heal? You're not sure, but maybe a basketball coach can help.

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Strangers to Lovers,

Warnings: Death Of Parents / Brother/ Family, Car Accident (Cause), Swearing, Explicit Sex, Arguments, Physical Fighting, Past Abusive Relationship, Talks Of Domestic Violence,

A/N: Super small teaser of my next story.

Ten minutes late. A client had you on the phone forever, and now you're ten minutes late to Nicky's practice. Your heels click and clack down the hallway of the middle school as you hurry to the gym doors in your pencil skirt, swearing to yourself under your breath. You were more annoyed that you didn't have enough time to run and change your clothes more than anything. Now, you'll get to sit through this practice with a sore ass and tight skirt that cuts slightly into your stomach. As you open the gymnasium door and step through the threshold, you can see all eyes turn to look at you. Shit!

“Sorry,” you say quickly and make your way to the bleachers.

The first thing you notice when you climb a couple of stairs is the horrid group of moms shaking their heads at you. You roll your eyes at them and sit down, focusing your attention on the court. That is when you notice blondie… Coach Min also gave you a look that you can't quite interpret, but you think he is annoyed. You swallow hard and sit up a bit straighter. He turns to watch the boys, and you slump back down some. This is stupid. You feel like you're in trouble with your parents and waiting for them to scold you because they had caught you sneaking back into the house when you were supposed to be grounded. Ridiculous.

You passed your time ignoring everyone around you playing on your phone while occasionally looking up to check on Nicky. You sigh with relief as both coaches finally blow their whistles, signaling the end of practice. Standing up, you stretch your back and make your way down to the floor to wait for Nicky to finish his team huddle. The other parents make their down as well, all gathering further down than you in a group talking amongst themselves.The boys finish their huddle and disperse, finding their adult to finally leave. You smile at your nephew when he makes his way over to you.

“You ready?” You ask as he walks over to the bleachers and grabs his duffle.

"Let's go,” he said, wiping the sweat from his face on a towel.

“Hold it,” Coach Min's deep voice said. You turn to look at him and watch as he approaches you. “Good job today, Nicky. Could you give your mom and I a minute alone?” You and Nicky look at each other. Neither one of you jumps to correct Coach Min. Nicky nods his head and runs to stand out in the hallway to wait for you. You give a loud sigh and look at the handsome man in front of you. He has a clipboard in his hand, which he flips a couple of pages before looking back at you. “Y/N, is it? You were late.”

“Yup,” you say, giving him a blank stare.

“All players need a guardian here,” he informs you.

“And….here I am,” you say.

“You were late,” he says again.

“Again….yup,” you say, shrugging your shoulders.

“You're going to be my problem parent, aren't you, Y/N? I always have at least one every year. Did you at least read our handbook?” He asks, and you look away guiltily, giving you away easily. “Of course not. You weren't even paying attention that first day of practice.”

“Listen, I'll read your little handbook and be on time from now on. Am I free to go, coach?” You ask sarcastically.

You watch as he presses his tongue to the side of his cheek, nodding to his head, agreeing that you can go. Without another word, you turn and leave, meeting Nicky in the hallway. When the young boy sees you, he starts to laugh at you, and you send a mock glare his way.

“Your coach is a dick,” you tell him as the two of you make your way out of the building.

“Awww, you said a bad word. You said dick,” Nicky says, laughing even more.

Yup, laugh it up, little boy. Laugh it up.

#yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #min yoongi smut #yoongi au #bts yoongi #bts min yoongi #min yoongi #suga bts #suga #bts suga #suga bangtan #bts smut

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coffeecacao · 2 days ago

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Not bleak enough...? Severe spoilers beneath cut let's dissect this.

Dwarves have been unwittingly selling their own ancestors' blood for desperately needed coin, blood which grants every other race the wonder of a magic they can never access because their dreams were stolen by the gods and then twisted into a blight which killed countless people. They were once a mighty people, literally broken down by the gods and cast down in a war because spirits used Titan blood to gain corporeal form. The dalish elves' own gods are sacrificing them in rituals because those gods see their face marks and still see them as the slaves they were used to mark. We see Solas go from a frightened idealist to a man broken by war and doing whatever it takes through centuries of memories. The grey wardens are mostly decimated in a gruelling battle at Weisshaupt, a place know throughout the series as the core of the order, held up as its secure foundation, now devastated. Varric dies and Solas manipulates Rook's mind into seeing him, this firm foundation they can go to throughout the game, only to learn he was a figment conjured for the purpose of Solas manipulating them. Neve's consistent attempts to make the city she loves better one case at a time only disillusion her and it more and more. Harding's understanding of herself and her faith are both shattered and she has to put herself back together. Bellara lost her brother in an event she blames herself for, only to get him back, only for him to have allied himself with a god who turns their people into demons, then he redeems himself, only to die right in front of her, again. Lucanis was tortured and forcibly demon possessed in prison for a year, only to get out to his mother figure being "dead," only then to learn the man he grew up with, his only friend, betrayed him and caused all of his suffering. All Davrin wanted was a purpose, only for the griffons he devoted his life to to be stolen from him and threatened with a slow and brutal death in the form of a blight administered by an elf who was forced to do so ages ago by the very order he has devoted his life to. Emmrich lost his parents as a child and as a result is terrified of death, and is forced to choose between losing his newfound family, Manfred, and dying himself one day by giving up lichdom. Taash was constrained by their mother in a desperate attempt to protect them from the Antaam while not losing what their mother saw as their identity, the Qun, and when Taash broke their binds to finally tell their mother who they were, their mother rejected them, only to accept them mere moments before her brutal death right in front of them. Rook has to choose whether to save one city or another from a dragon attack, either option resulting in civilian deaths and decimation. Rook is trapped in a prison of their own regrets after being forced to sacrifice a beloved team member. Yes. They all overcame these things. Because this is a story about fucking redemption, and overcoming trauma.

#taash #dragon age #veilguard #datv #emmrich #rook #solas #davrin #bellara #neve #lucanis #harding

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ao3feed-brucewayne · 2 days ago

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Fuck That!

by hyperfixationmaniac “You know, if you turn me over to the social workers, well… the chances of a kid my age findin’ a decent home are slim–” “Don’t bet on it, Robin.” “Robin?” Jason’s head whips around and he stares at Batman in horror, “Robin!?” Batman’s smile falters, and he starts explaining slowly, “Yes, you’ve proved yourself quite a lot tonight, young man. I think you’d make an excellent Ro–” “Fuck that!” ---- Jason, very aggresively, says No to being Robin. This spirals into quite the different life for everyone in the Batfamily! Words: 8955, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: DCU, Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Talia al Ghul, Damian Al Ghul Wayne, Duke Thomas, Barbara Gordon (Mentioned), Bernard Dowd (mentioned), Crystal Brown (mentioned) Relationships: Batfamily Members & Jason Todd, Talia al Ghul & Jason Todd (briefly) Additional Tags: Jason Todd-centric, Civilian Jason Todd, Jason Todd swears a lot, Everybody Loves Jason Todd, Competent Jason Todd, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Jason Todd Takes Care of His Family, Scary Jason Todd, i think if jason was a civilian and used his rage in an alfred-like way, then he’d very quickly become the head of the household, this is the fic born from that headcanon, no beta we die like jason todd, except that, Jason Todd Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, like COMPLETE fix-it, to the point that the only canon events that happen are the batfam members joining, and even those are very warped to make them infinitely less tragic, Fluff, Humor, i think this is humour but im really not sure, if im being honest its more like, Crack, Jason Todd is Not Robin, Jason Todd is Not Red Hood, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Tim Drake Joins the Batfamily Early, But only by a little, Stephanie Brown is not Robin, Trans Female Stephanie Brown, its not important to the story but its important to my heart, Stephanie Brown Joins the Batfamily Early, again only by a little though, Damian Wayne is Not Robin, some of them are other titles, but im not putting them in because of spoilers, just know that dick is the first and only robin, Cassandra Cain Joins the Batfamily Early, oooonly by a little, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Good Parent Bruce Wayne, more like jason violently twists bruce into being a good parent like a balloon animal, Awkward Bruce Wayne, Minor Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake/Bernard Dowd, because these are MY blorbos, so i get to make them three disaster bisexuals in an idiot polycule, Self-Indulgent, PLEASE don’t interact with this if you ship the batfam!! via https://ift.tt/IBPrVYg

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the caped crusader #gotham #dcu #dc #ao3 #ao3feed

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tgmsunmontue · 3 days ago

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Season to Taste - 41/42 WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another.

PROLOGUE/1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 (interlude) 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 (interlude) 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 (interlude) 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 (interlude)

CHAPTER FORTYONE

“So… I gotta ask. Why do you call him Leo?”

“It’s how he introduced himself…” Jake says with an easy shrug, and across the room Vi is snorting into her glass of wine, and Maverick is looking curious.

“In my defense, I didn’t think I’d ever meet you again…” Leo says, and Jake grins. Leo doesn’t hesitate, kissing Jake’s cheek again. He knows the other Daggers are seeing a side of him he doesn’t often expose when he’s working, the side that is saved up for his family and Leo. And occasionally Javy and Phoenix and sometimes Fritz. Less often though.

“Wait… When did you two meet?”

“2008.”

There are collective exclamations of surprise at that and Jake laughs, because it’s a lifetime ago.

“No way have you been with him since 2008…” Javy says and Jake gives him a conceding nod, because no, of course he hasn’t. Hell. He didn’t even come out to Javy until after DADT had been repealed. Only his family knew.

“We met again in 2016. In Texas. At the farmers market my family goes to. Bumped into each other. Literally.”

“Jake was his Cinderfella…” Vi says from across the room, and Jake snorts, because that name will never not be funny to him.

“Vi… come on.”

“No wait, I want to hear this,” Fanboy says, looking invested, and Jake guesses that other than Fritz, Javy and Phoenix the others don’t really know him that well.

“Bradley here is called Leonardo by all my family. Our family.”

“Wait. I thought you said you were Hangman’s cousin…”

“I am.”

“I am so confused right now.”

“Okay. Short story time,” Vi says, clapping her hands together, and Jake knows she’s had to explain how their family is connected so many times now that she has it down to a fine art. He’s interested how she’s going to include Leo in her story though. “Bradley moved to Italy when he was eighteen and pretty much got adopted by the Gallo family, and my uncle Leandro just started calling him Leonardo. Leo.”

“Rooster… Gallo…” Phoenix says, and she’s rubbing at her face and looking at Vi warily, and then looking at Jake and he just raises an eyebrow, not quite sure what’s going on there, but no doubt Leo will figure it out and tell Jake all about it.

“Gallo like in… gallows?”

“No, gallo is Italian for rooster. Anyway, Leo becomes part of our family. My uncle Leandro and aunty Silvia never had children, so Bradley is their son.”

Leo ducks his head at that, and Jake knows he’s got complicated emotions around his own parents, and his relationship with Maverick and Admiral Kazansky. Knows he loves Leandro and Silvia fiercely, along with the entire Gallo family.

“Anyway,” Vi stresses, bringing attention back to her. “These two met, shared a dance and then Jake ran away into the night, leaving behind a heart broken Bradley…”

“Fuck off, I wasn’t heartbroken…” Leo mutters and Jake lets out a laugh.

“You left him hanging? Wow Hangman…”

“A dance huh?” Omaha asks, putting air quotes around the word dance and Leo laughs beside him but Jake is flipping him the finger.

“Get you mind out of the gutter Omaha.”

“Ah. Hence the Cinderfella moniker…”

“Yes. Anyway, fast forward eight years and they bumped into each other at a farmers market in Texas and the rest is history. Been together ever since. They’re disgustingly in love. Any questions so far?”

She looks like she’s daring the rest of the squad to say something and Jake grins, lets himself lean against Leo’s body and get wrapped in his arms, because yeah, disgustingly in love pretty much sums it up for him.

“Good. Now it get’s a little confusing. Our great-great grandfather Leonardo Seresin had four children,” Vi says, holding her hand up and showing four fingers. “A son, the eldest, twin girls, and then another daughter. With me so far?” Nods all round, and then Vi holds up her other hand with three fingers. “Great. Then over here we have the Gallo family. Three kids. Oldest is a daughter, then two sons. These three Gallo siblings marry the three eldest Seresin offspring.”

Jake lets himself zone out a little, has had it explained so many times now, has had to explain it himself, has seen the family tree and photos… yeah. He knows how they’re all related. He’s more interested in watching the Daggers as they listen with avid curiosity, looking between Jake and Vi and then Leo and every time they pass over Leo they seem to do a little double take and Jake realizes it’s because of who Leo is. Famous. It hits him then and he starts a little.

“Wait… fuck. My sisters. They all know don’t they?”

“Know what?”

“How famous you are.”

“Yeah, right from the beginning. Maria really tried to drop some hints…”

“Oh fuck… the recipe books… the film crew you brought in for my mom’s videos… oh my god. I’m an idiot.”

“No… I just don’t think it was important enough for you to care about. You figured out that Ice and Maverick were part of my life without me telling you. That’s a lot more important to me.”

“I asked Olivia if she was a fan, and she said yes… they’re never going to let me here the end of this.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“I’m just… You know what? I’m just going to pretend I don’t know. Doesn’t change anything anyway.”

“I know…” Leo says, and he’s looking at Jake with such blatant adoration in his eyes he feels his stomach swoop, because this is the man he’s going to marry. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

… … …

Bradley doesn’t think he’s felt such a huge gamut of emotions in such a short period of his life ever before. From believing that Jake and Mav were both missing, presumed dead, to them being alive, the relief and joy, then the sick churning in his gut over telling Jake about Ice and Mav, only to find he already knew… then to being seething mad from reading the report. And swinging back around to relief.

He doesn’t want to let him go, the afternoon apart has more than tried him and he’s worked through the worst of his anger over Jake and Mav’s idiocy. At least Ice will deal with Mav. He refocuses back on the conversation, isn’t quite sure what Vi has just said but glad he’s been able to pass off the explanation to someone else so he can just hold Jake close.

“Holy shit. Really?”

“So when we went for that meal in Italy that time…? That was all your family as well?” Phoenix is asking Vi, and she’s studying Phoenix over the rim of her wineglass.

“Yes,” Vi states, and Bradley isn’t quite sure why her tone is that sharp, but he’ll ask later.

“I’m still confused.”

“Not your family bro, I’d just give up.”

“Oh my god… Seresin’s Sauce. That’s… you actually made that for him. It’s actually his ketchup. We just thought he was all ego…”

“Hey!” Jake objects.

“Sure did.”

“I gave him so much shit about falling in love with a guy who puts sauce on everything…” Vi says, Bradley laughs as Jake gives her the finger. Glancing at his watch he presses his fingers into Jake’s side gently.

“Want to come help me in the kitchen?” Bradley asks. They both know that Jake isn’t likely going to help, that he usually just keeps Bradley company. Unless he’s adamant about cooking for Bradley, Jake is happy to let him do everything. Bradley likes it that way, but right now he wants to make out with him a little without an audience.

“Wait, can Hangman actually cook?”

“Yeah, he’s a decent cook,” Bradley offers and Jake looks smug. Bradley is overwhelmed with relief that he’s here and he’s okay.

… … …

Leo pulls the door to the kitchen shut very firmly behind them and then leans forward to press a hot urgent kiss against Jake’s mouth. He’s being so careful of Jake’s injuries, it’s sweet, but Jake is definitely feeling better, even if he’s not going to be up for anything close to what he wants to do. He’s already well aware that he could happily go to bed right now if it was a choice. But it’s not. Leo’s fingers skate down his ribs, settle gently on his hip and he lets himself just enjoy being close, in his space again.

“Missed you this afternoon.”

“Yeah. Missed you too. Glad we’ve got this time together right now. And I get to meet your friends…”

“Mmm. Bunch of assholes.”

“You fit right in then huh?”

“Yeah, but so will you.”

Then Leo is pulling back and Jake can see the organized chaos behind him and –

“That is a fuck load of food…”

“Yeah well. You know me…”

“You cook when you’re stressed. And angry. And to show your love…”

“And when it’s one person who is the cause of all of that?”

“Shit… I’m sorry baby…”

“Not your fault. Some of it was definitely self-inflicted. Here. Take this out and pass it around…”

“What, am I your waiter now?”

“Just want to see your ass…”

Jake laughs but does as he’s told.

… … …

“Three months? You’ve got leave for three whole months?”

“Did you miss the bit where we nearly died?”

“Don’t you dare fucking joke about that Jake…”

Jake snaps his mouth shut and presses a soft kiss to Leo’s forehead in silent apology.

“Three months… you don’t think you’ll get sick of me?”

“Nope. Don’t think that’s possible.”

“Ugh. Don’t say it like that. I’ll take it as a challenge…”

“I can think of other things to challenge you with…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Once you’re all healed up that is…”

“Ugh. Spoilsport.”

“Yeah, you passing out or busting stitches would be really sexy. Such a turn on…”

Jake pulls a face, because he knows Leo has a point but he already feels better, just tired.

… … …

Bradley knows Ice has pulled strings and not just about the fact that the have a wedding date in February next year, with guaranteed leave for every single person that Jake and Bradley want there who happens to be Navy. He also guesses that Mav’s promotion to Admiral and subsequent retirement is the work of Ice’s meddling, but Bradley cannot find it in him to care. He’s glad, so glad, that Jake and the others have formed a permanent detachment based between Fallon and Corpus Christi.

There are still periods when they’re apart, but it’s easier somehow now. Able to put faces to all the names that come from Jake’s lips. Also Fritz doesn’t hold back with his requests for baked goods, and Bradley is more than happy to keep the man who saved his godfather and future husband’s lives in baked goods. He’s in a group chat with Coyote, Phoenix and Fritz, and he gets a whole lot more of candid shots of Jake at work, the type he knows Vi has been supplying Jake with for years. It’s nice to have it finally reciprocated.

The one thing with having a wedding date set, is the sudden number of opinions he’s apparently meant to have on flowers, or table settings, or guest lists. He and Jake have discussed it, and while neither of them care, they’re also aware it’s a big event for their friends and families. It’s definitely part family reunion and Bradley is glad for them all, waves away everyone’s concerns when they say they’re hijacking the wedding. As long as he ends up married to Jake at the end of the day, it’s fine. Saying the don’t care though is a sure-fire way to wind everyone else up though.

One thing he does care about is something he wants to have made for Jake, as a wedding present

… … …

He’s back home in Texas, curled up in their bed, a weekend of leave and being in Corpus Christi means a weekend with Leo and he couldn’t be happier.

“So, they’ve given us a shortlist of songs to consider for our first dance…” Jake says, and he knows his sisters are getting a kick out of organizing his wedding, not having to worry about a budget because Leo simply handed over his fucking credit card. An asshole move Jake couldn’t say anything about because he’s still pretending he has no idea just how famous Leo is. He knows he’s on borrowed time for that though, because he’s pretty sure Maria is onto him. “So we have to pick a song to dance to, and a song to walk down the aisle to…”

“I’ve… uh. Actually got a song in mind. If you don’t have any preferences?”

Jake blinks and shakes his head.

“No. No preference. I really… I didn’t dream of this day or anything. I’m looking forward to calling you my husband, but I didn’t plan out my wedding…”

“Yeah. No. Neither did I. I just… there’s this one song I’d like, if you listen to it and don’t mind. You might think it’s too cheesy…”

“I don’t care if it’s cheesy. If you want it, you get it…” Jake says, because so far this is the first thing Leo has expressed an opinion about, including the food, which Jake had thought he’d definitely have opinions about. Instead he’s simply passed it all over to Leandro and Silvia , both of whom have taken the job on with glee. Maria and Olivia are in heaven. Jake’s glad to be out of it.

“Come on… cue it up and play it for me.”

Leo does as instructed and Jake listens, and yeah, it’s very old-school, and he’s definitely not going to say no. It’s sweet, reminds him of their first kiss over fifteen years ago and where they are now and what they want together. However he’s going to be a little bit of an asshole about it.

“Am I the bride in this scenario?” Jake asks, sliding his body against Leo’s with a grin, gets a responding grin, Leo’s fingers gripping his ass. Yep. Time for round two.

“I mean, you could be in your dress whites…”

“Pfft. I’m not wearing my whites,” Jake says, and it’s automatic. He doesn’t know why, really, but in his gut he doesn’t want his uniform on when he gets married.

“Mmm, you look so good in them…”

“I know, but that’s not the point. You want one of us to be in white you can wear your chef whites…”

“I don’t want to wear my chef whites!”

“Well, I don’t want to get married in my uniform!”

Just like that the mood between them has soured and he doesn’t even know why. He’s annoyed more at that, the not knowing the reason and he sits up and scrubs at his face.

“I… I’m not asking you to. I just said you look good when you do wear them…”

Jake shakes his head, because he knows that, both that he looks good but also that Leo isn’t asking him.

“I just… I’m going to go for a run. I’ll be back.”

He presses a quick kiss to Leo’s mouth, because he’s not angry or upset but he’s something and it’s unsettling.

… … …

He’s fucked up, he doesn’t know how. But he’d played the song, and Jake had seemed fine with it, and then he’d made a comment about Jake’s dress whites, and it had been a joke… maybe that’s where he’d fucked up. He needs to talk to Vi, and he hurries down the hall to her room, knocks and then pushes it open and another bad decision.

“Augh!”

“Shit!”

“Cazzo!”

He pulls the door shut and stares at it briefly before turning abruptly toward the kitchen. He doesn’t usually drink but this might warrant it. However he’s still just standing there staring at the wines when he sees movement in the corner of his eye and Vi is there, tying a robe closed.

“You needed something?”

“Sorry. I… didn’t think you had company.”

“Well, I didn’t think I’d see you up for air before dinner. So… Cosa c'è che non va?”

“Uh… I think Jake is getting cold feet.”

“Nope. That boy’s feet are on fire. Next.”

“No seriously Vi. We were just… talking. And then he said he had to go for a run.”

“Talking? About what?”

“First dance song and what we were going to wear… Uh. Do I know who is in your bedroom?”

“One issue at a time. Did you tell him he had to wear something?”

“No. I don’t care what he wears! He looks good in everything!”

“He does, and he knows it. What’s the issue?” a familiar voice asks and yeah, his hunch was right.

“Uh… Phoenix. Natasha. Hi.”

“Hi Bradley.”

“Um. Sorry about… before.”

“It’s fine. We should have used the lock. Vi just seemed to think you’d be distracted for a while.”

“And usually Vi would be right…” Bradley mutters, because as much as he wants all the gossip right now and when the hell this came about, he’s quietly freaking out about where Jake is and more importantly what he’s thinking.

“So… Hangman’s left you hanging again. He’ll be back. That man is many things, and stupid about you is one of them.”

“I just want to know what I did wrong so I don’t fuck up again…”

“You said first dance song and what you were going to wear. What did you suggest he wear?”

“I made a joke about his dress whites… but that’s all it was. I don’t care what he wears.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Could be nothing, but…” she shrugs, lips twisted in something as she looks at Vi and then away again. “We both served under DADT. It’s hard to be loyal to your service while also being true to yourself. For all Hangman’s ego and confidence now, I can’t imagine it was the same before DADT was repealed. Maybe it was, I didn’t know him then…”

“Huh,” Bradley says, because of course he hadn’t thought about that for Jake. He’s thought about it for Ice and Mav of course, but Jake and him have never been together under DADT. DADT has never had any impact on him at all. He doesn’t know if that’s the answer, but it’s still enough to ease his immediate panic. Jake had kissed him. It’s fine. He’ll be back.

… … …

He’s dripping sweat, cursing himself for going running in the near midday heat. He should know better, but he’d needed to clear his head and he thinks he has it figured out. And he thinks he can explain it to Leo as well, which is the most important part. He pushes open the front door and heads directly for the kitchen, needs water but also it’s where he expects to find Leo likely stress cooking. Except he’s not there and he stares at Phoenix silently as he downs his bottle of water. This is his fucking house. Well. Leo’s. But still.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Having sex with your cousin.”

“Not right now I hope…”

“Wouldn’t you like to know…”

“No. I really wouldn’t. Is Leo…”

“In your room. Go talk him off the ceiling,” Vi says, stepping into Phoenix’s personal space and he’s not going to show any outward sign of surprise.

“Thought you’d have better taste Vi…”

“Fuck you Bagman.”

“No thanks!” Jake replies.

“Ho un gusto perfetto,” Vi mutters with narrowed eyes and Jake snorts. Yeah, he guesses she does have perfect taste. He gives them a jaunty little wave and heads away toward his room; pushes open the bedroom door and presses it closed behind him. Leo is lying in the middle of the bed completely naked and Jake’s mouth floods with saliva at the sight.

“Fuck… could eat you up.”

“Yeah? Not going to stop you.”

“Leo…”

“Jake… I’m sorry. I don’t know what I said, or did…”

“Shit. No. I… no. Nothing you did. I didn’t mean to make you think it was. Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to think it was you. Was just… messy in my head.”

“It’s fine, I figured out it wasn’t me. I’m sorry too. I don’t care what you wear. I just… I want you to be happy. You could wear a paper bag for all I care…”

“It’d give you easy access at least…” Jake jokes, and Leo snorts and Jake leans down to kiss him, feels hot and sticky with sweat, but that’s exactly what Leo wants to do to him. “And I figured it out I think. I… my job is important to me, but it isn’t all of me. It isn’t part of my relationship with you. I don’t… I don’t want to have it there on our wedding day.”

“Okay. That's fine. Good. I wouldn't ever want you to agree with me just to make me happy.”

“Have I ever agreed with you when I didn’t actually?”

“I don’t know, maybe you have…”

“Nah baby, not worth the trouble. We’re perfect just the way we are.”

“Yeah, we are.”

------- ------- -------

For those of you that like this additional information the song Bradley has asked for is (Today I met) the Boy I'm going marry by Darlene Love, released in 1963.

Today I met the boy I'm gonna marry

He's all I've wanted all my life and even more

He smiled at me and, gee, the music started playing

"Here Comes the Bride" when he walked through the door

Today I met the boy I'm gonna marry

The boy whose life and dream and love I wanna share

For on my hand, a band of gold appeared before me

The band of gold I always dreamed I'd wear

When we kissed I felt a sweet sensation

This time it wasn't just my imagination

Today I met the boy I'm gonna marry

He's just what I've been waiting for, oh, yes

With every kiss, "Oh, this is it", my heart keeps saying

Today I met the boy I'm going to marry

#Season to taste #Hangster #Sereshaw #Top Gun Maverick fanfiction #AU

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